


I Will Be Your Sword & Shield

by trulywicked



Series: Requested Works [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amaterasu's Blessed, Anal Sex, BAMF Senju Tobirama, Butsuma Done Fucked Up, Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Fluff, Good Parent Tajima, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Make Peace Or Else, People Die But Like No One We Care About, Protective Senju Tobirama, Protective Uchiha Madara, Red Eyes Are Sacred To The Uchiha But They Don't Advertise That, Red eyes are blessed, Senju Itama Lives, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, The Daimyo Is Sick Of This BS, do not copy to another site, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: When Butsuma goes too far, the daimyo orders him to make peace with the Uchiha Clan but Butsuma is far from willing and concocts a scheme to arrange a marriage to his supposedly sickly second son to their heir. He hopes the insult will be so great a blow to the Uchiha Pride that they will attack, leaving the Senju innocent of 'wrong-doing'.Too bad for his hopes that his second son is everything any Uchiha worth their salt wants in a spouse.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Requested Works [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764817
Comments: 60
Kudos: 2102





	I Will Be Your Sword & Shield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Votaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Votaku/gifts).



> Holy CRAP y'all this one was a BEAST. It was supposed to be 10k but the prompt took my brain and RAN with it. So here you go Votaku! I hope you like 25k+ of this wild ride! *smooches*
> 
> Title comes from the song [Battlefield](https://open.spotify.com/track/6GRSgTmK2i61nsLOviQ8MJ?si=ESL3YYaeSMqKYCgllL8mQQ) by SVRCINA

When he arrived home, he knew right away that something was wrong. His elder brother didn't come flying out of the gates to welcome him back and the rest of the clan looked nervous. More than nervous, in point of fact they looked  _ afraid _ , and not of him for a change. 

It was unusual enough to set off warning bells in his head. He could already guess that at least some of the reason for the oddity could be laid at his father's door. Butsuma's obsession with attempting to crush the Uchiha clan had cost them lives, allies, and even some favor in the daimyo's court. People outside the clan called his father a warhawk but within the Senju it, and all his father did to achieve that end, was known as Butsuma's Madness.

The primary victims of the madness we're his own sons. So, as one of those surviving sons, he knew to be worried for his brothers. He bypassed his father's study and went directly to the healing hall where his little brother spent the majority of his time and where he could feel the grounded, calm chakra that was Itama moving between many other signatures. 

Upon stepping into the healing hall, it was immediately clear there had been a large battle. The wounded were numerous enough to make the hall a bit crowded. However, none of them were in dire condition. Almost all were awake and aware and glanced his way, hiding their sneers briefly before looking away. They all knew that Itama would make the remainder of their stay in the healing hall a misery if they showed Tobirama disrespect.

He moved over to where his little brother was re-bandaging an elder cousin's leg.

Itama finished the task and glanced up then leaped to his feet and lunged. “Tobira-nii!” His arms caught close around Tobirama and held him close. “Okaerinasai.”

Tobirama ran a hand down Itama’s hair, down the long braid his baby brother had cultivated from the moment he’d been assigned to the healing hall. “Tadaima. What has happened? Where is Anija?”

“Oh boy.” Itama grimaced. “It’s bad this time. Bad enough that Chichiue-sama received a message directly from the daimyo two days ago.” He pulled Tobirama with him to an enclosed room where they could apply sound barrier seals. 

Tobirama pressed his lips tightly together. “What did he do?”

Itama ran his braid through his hands, wringing it a few times, and started pacing. “You know the neutral trade village?”

He nodded. They all knew of the civilian trade village that sat on a territory outside of all the shinobi clans. It was one of the only places that any and all of the Hi no Kuni clans could go to get supplies that weren’t normally accessible to them. 

“I don’t know the details. You’ll need to talk to Anija for that. But Chichiue-sama attacked a group of Uchiha there. I don’t think it went the way he wanted it to, he came back with the injured and punished Anija. Hashirama’s been confined to quarters and I haven’t been allowed to see him.” Itama hugged himself. “It’s really bad this time Tobira-nii.”

Tobirama caught Itama’s arm and pulled him into his own arms, hugging tightly until his baby brother relaxed a little. “Whatever he did this time can be fixed so long as we are not being exiled. We will fix it.”

“You mean  _ you _ will. Like you always do.” Itama muttered it into Tobirama’s shoulder. “I hate that. I  _ hate _ it. You’ve saved this clan from Butsuma’s Madness so many times, saved us from disaster, but the clan just refuses to  _ see _ it.”

Tobirama leaned his cheek on Itama’s hair. “Of course not. To admit that I am valuable they would have to admit that I am just as human as they are and not a Spirit that took over Kaa-san’s womb to come into the world. No one likes to admit they were wrong. It does not matter.”

“It  _ matters _ and one day you’ll get the respect you deserve. One day after Butsuma’s grip on the clan is gone and Hashirama is in charge.”

“Do not let it bother you, Itama.” Tobirama brushed the hair off his baby brother’s brow and pressed a soft kiss there. “Go tend your patients. I will go to Anija and get the details.”

Itama gave his brother one more squeeze before exiting the room.

Tobirama made his way back from the healing hall to the main house, his stride determined and his face set in hard lines that sent everyone scrambling away from him. He knew how to use the fear the clan held of his ‘unnatural’ coloring to his advantage. It was why he had made part of his seal tattoos visible on his face when it wasn't strictly necessary. It sharpened his already vulpine features further and made him an even more intimidating figure.

To the world outside the Senju, Butsuma’s second son was rumored to be sickly and bedridden, a failure of a surety heir. It was a carefully crafted lie to allow the Senju Ghost to operate without suspicion.

But within the Senju, his clan had labeled him as something to fear and despise from the moment he’d been born. He was positive that had his mother not been the Hatake’s Black Scourge, and thus a woman no one wished to cross, he would not have lived long enough to become what Butsuma considered a useful tool.

His father was too ashamed of the ‘spirit child’ his wife had birthed to allow him on public battlefields, no matter how strong he was with jutsu and the sword, but Tobirama had proven capable of slipping through anyone’s security undetected as easily as the spirit his clan labeled him and become his father’s perfect assassin and thief. A terrifying ghost the rest of the shinobi world feared and hated.

His ability as a sensor, so keen that he could reach to the edges of Hi no Kuni, his devastating intelligence, the techniques, seals, and equipment he invented, and his exceptionally fine chakra control, so fine that he could manipulate water with simple features rather than needing full hand signs, all made him too dangerous and valuable for the clan to risk taking their superstitious bigotry to a physical level. Yet not at all enough of an asset to be truly  _ valued _ by any but his brothers and their elder cousin Touka.

It was for them that he remained with the Senju. He could have left, found somewhere he could make a home that would content him, but he would not abandon his brothers nor Touka, and Hashirama would  _ never _ give up on the clan or his dream for peace. So he remained and used the weapons given to him to forge a clear path.

It only took a few seconds of a long stare for the guards outside Hashirama’s quarters to stand down and edge out of his way. He ignored the muttered insults and slid the door open.

A quick scan of the room found Hashirama sitting with his knees drawn up, face hidden in them, his back covered in new scars. 

Tobirama closed the door and swallowed the rage that wanted to rise up and  _ destroy _ Butsuma. Both for the beating he’d clearly given Hashirama and sentencing him to isolation. Nothing was worse for Hashirama than to be barred from human contact. If his brother didn’t need him more in this moment, Tobirama may very well have gone to put a permanent  _ end _ to Butsuma. But Hashirama needed contact more than Tobiramam needed to destroy their father.

“Anija.” He stepped up to his older brother.

Hashirama’s head whipped up, eyes dark with depression widening and a spark of life lighting in them. “Tobi!” He was up and surging forward, arms clamping around Tobirama in a hard, desperate hug. “You’re home! You aren't hurt are you? Did anything happen on your mission? Do you need-”

“Anija,” Tobirama interrupted him and smoothed a hand glowing with iryou jutsu down Hashirama’s back, finding where the mokuton hadn’t quite healed him properly and fixing the twisted nerves. “I am well. Obviously better than you are at the moment. Itama said Chichiue-sama,” the honored title tasted like ash in Tobirama’s mouth but the guards could hear them, “angered the daimyo. What happened?”

Hashirama shuddered. “Oh Tobi, it was  _ awful _ . He learned that the Uchiha head family would be at the trade village along with some of their best fighters to purchase enough grain to last the winter. The Uchiha fields haven’t yielded much this year. I thought...we  _ all _ thought Chichiue-sama would try to attack the Uchiha compound but...he didn’t.”

“Itama said he attacked at the trade village.”

“I  _ tried _ to talk him out of it. I  _ tried _ . He wouldn’t listen and he didn’t care about the civilians!” Hashirama buried his face into Tobirama’s shoulder. He didn’t know how his little brother was so  _ strong _ and solid and wished he could stand as firm in the face of horrors, could be as strong but he just  _ felt _ too much all the time and couldn’t keep his emotions corralled or hidden inside like Tobirama could. “He attacked and ordered our forces to do the same without any thought for the innocent. The Uchiha were caught off guard but not enough to keep from defending themselves. If they’d gone all out...we would have lost a lot of our people.”

Tobirama rubbed Hashirama’s back comfortingly. “They restrained themselves?”

“Well sort of. I couldn’t do it, I  _ couldn't _ attack and disregard the civilians' lives. So I disobeyed Chichiue-sama’s orders and worked to get the civilian villagers to safety instead. Madara worked with me while the rest of the Uchiha were busy defending, blocking attacks instead of returning them. They went all out but not...”

“They went all out to defend the civilians rather than return the Senju attack.” Tobirama shook his head, not over the Uchiha but over Butsuma’s foolishness. “The civilians?”

“All survived with minor injuries, bruises, a few cuts and scrapes, nothing life threatening. But their village was completely wrecked by the time the Uchiha managed to get the upper hand and force Chichiue-sama and the rest to retreat. I stayed to help the civilians, made a temporary shelter. When I returned...he was  _ very _ angry.”

Tobirama’s jaw clenched, the muscle flexing in anger. “You did well, Anija. You know that do you not?”

Hashirama swallowed hard but nodded. “He came to yell at me after the daimyo’s messenger arrived. The daimyo is incensed over the assault on neutral territory. He’s demanded Chichiue-sama initiate peace-talks with the Uchiha. If he doesn’t...if he doesn’t the daimyo will issue an execution order for the Senju clan.” He finished on a whisper. “Chichiue-sama believes that if I had followed orders and fought the Uchiha and the civilians had been left to die the daimyo would never have learned of the attack.”

“He is wrong. This sort of breach of neutrality can not be hidden. It would have been discovered and we would not have been given an ultimatum.” Tobirama’s mind was racing through the options. He didn’t doubt that Butsuma would try to work around the decree, would try to find a way to make the peace-talks fail. Tobirama would not allow that to happen. If the peace-talks failed the Senju would be wiped off the face of the earth and he would  _ not _ allow his brothers to fall to Butsuma’s Madness no matter what he had to do.

“He wants to see you.” Hashirama held tighter. “Tobirama...what if he-”

“Whatever Chichiue-sama has in mind,” Tobirama murmured it into Hashirama’s ear, “I will not allow it to endanger the Senju. Do not worry, Anija.”

“I can’t help it. It’s never good when he  _ wants _ to see you. The last time he ordered you to assassinate the newborn Hyuuga heirs." Hashirama held his brother tightly, that order had  _ hurt _ Tobirama so much. It had brought his unbreakable brother close to shattering.

Tobirama's skin crawled with the memory of that order. Just the fact that his father had ordered him to murder  _ infants _ was sickening. He’d found a way around carrying out the order but it still haunted him. 

He pressed his brow against Hashirama’s. “Where is that eternal optimism you have, Anija? Expecting the worst does not become you. You will get wrinkles.”

“They’ll match yours.” Hashirama’s hand curled around the nape of his little brother’s neck. “I love you, Otouto, and I will worry for you and the way you insist on standing between us and danger until you finally have someone that can do the same for you.”

“I love you as well, Anija, and I will shield those I care for so long as there is breath in my body.”

“That’s what worries me.” Hashirama sighed and gently squeezed Tobirama’s nape before releasing him. “He’ll know you’re home soon. You’d best go see him.”

He nodded. “I will return with a meal and Itama.” Not even Butsuma would dare bar Tobirama from seeing his brother. Not anymore. Butsuma knew very well that if it came down to a physical fight, any of his sons could defeat him. It was only politics and tradition that kept the man in power over the clan, if he pushed Tobirama too far that would not be enough to save him.

Tobirama made his way from Hashirama’s room to Butsuma’s study where he could feel the chakra that twisted more and more with each day that passed seething. 

He was bade enter after knocking softly and stepped into the study, immediately bowing. “Chichiue-sama.”

“Tobirama. You’ve already been to see Hashirama and Itama.” There was a sneer in the voice, a wordless judgement for Tobirama bypassing protocol. The unspoken words ‘ _ before me _ ’ were loud in the room.

But Tobirama had been playing this game from the cradle and the more madness gripped Butsuma the less his father won at it. “Indeed. I felt it would be more efficient to seek the reason for the dark mood that has fallen upon the clan from my brothers rather than disturb you when you would be busy with more important matters.”

Butsuma made a disgusted sound before snapping out, “Sit!”

Tobirama made his way to the bare tatami mat in front of Butsuma’s desk and sank down into a proper seiza, keeping his head bowed deferentially. He heard the clatter of a calligraphy brush being set down harshly and papers rustling. 

“The daimyo’s messenger is remaining with a small group of Aburame guards until things are settled with the Uchiha,” Butsuma spat the name out like it had a bad taste. 

That certainly explained why Butsuma hadn’t yet done something reckless. He  _ couldn’t _ . If he attempted to obviously subvert the daimyo’s order with the messenger and an Aburame escort in the compound it would give just enough room for Hashirama to perform a coup.

“So I am bound to send a request for a treaty to that rat Tajima. The daimyo added the requirement that the first overture is sent with grain to replace that which the Uchiha had been attempting to purchase at the time of our assault.”

Tobirama kept his expression neutral but inside something absolutely danced with glee. That order had to have  _ burned _ even worse than the one to make peace and he only wished he could have been home to see Butsuma’s reaction. “Would you like me to oversee the grain preparation, Chichiue-sama?” 

“Might as well but that isn’t why you’re here.” Butsuma stood and began to pace slowly. “The daimyo wants the initial ceasefire sealed quickly. The best way to ensure that is a marital alliance with Tajima’s heir.”

Tobirama chanced a look up in surprise and saw a smirk growing on Butsuma’s face.

“We can not lose Touka to the  _ Uchiha _ . She’s too valuable a bargaining chip. I’d rather save her for an alliance with the Nara or Inuzuka.”

Privately Tobirama thought that should Butsuma try to treat Touka as a  _ bargaining _ chip, she would use her naginata to cut out his shriveled, black heart.

“Itama is needed in the healing halls and obviously I won’t be offering up my heir.” Butsuma stopped his pacing and turned a hard, violently smug gaze on Tobirama. “But my second ‘sickly’ son. So rumored to be guarded and protected behind the walls is an excellent offering.”

A chill slithered up Tobirama’s spine as he realized just what Butsuma’s plan was. It was a set up to prod the Uchiha into refusing the ceasefire and treaty. Suggesting their main heir be wed to an ill,  _ male _ surety heir... While among the daimyo’s court, where heirs from concubines were quite common, it would be seen as proper and even a great concession as Butsuma only had sons to offer, to the Uchiha Clan, who married for love and remained faithful to their spouses, it would be seen as a manipulation to stifle the line of succession and was a grave insult.

And Uchiha were  _ well _ known for reacting violently to insults. 

If the Uchiha attacked rather than accept the ceasefire, it was possible the Senju would escape the daimyo’s wrath. A possibility Tobirama could see Butsuma was banking on. But it was far,  _ far _ more likely that the daimyo would issue an execution order for  _ both _ clans and put an end to the trouble they caused with their feud.

He would have to sneak a message in with the grain, a warning to Uchiha Tajima, and pray that the Uchiha Clan Head was possessed of enough self control that he wouldn’t go on a rampage over Butsuma’s ‘overture’.

He’d also keep tabs on the Uchiha clan using his sensor skills to measure just how angry they were and know if or when he might need to sneak out of the Senju compound to intercept them before Butsuma’s Madness got both clans killed.

* * *

Madara sat, seething and a little stunned still, beside his father as the Elder Council raged, Izuna’s voice joining them in the histrionics over the ‘ceasefire’ proposal Senju Butsuma had sent.

“This proposal is an outrage!” Elder Himeko spat, snapping her folding fan open to sweep a gesture at the open scroll in the middle of the table. “Worse, it’s  _ garbage _ !”

Elder Yashiro nodded in agreement, his already scarred lip curling further with disgust. “The  _ nerve _ of that Senju pest.”

“A  _ sickly  _ man to be wed to our Madara?!” Elder Akane hissed. “Bad enough for it to be a man, to end Madara’s direct line, but an  _ ill _ man? A man who can not stand beside our heir in battle?! This insult will not stand! We should return this offensive garbage to the Senju with a fire arrow.”

“Why not a fire  _ dragon _ ?” Yashiro suggested. “We should have-”

“Enough!” Tajima stood and slashed his hand through the air, voice a commanding bellow only his eldest surviving son could match. “Sit back down.”

“But-” A glare from Tajima’s Sharingan silenced the protest his second son started to make.

“Have you forgotten the message the daimyo sent barely a week ago?” Tajima demanded. “A courtesy warning of his desire for our clan and the Senju to reach a peace agreement. To say nothing of the warning included with the grain that was delivered.”

Izuna settled back into seiza beside Madara with a pout. “Are we sure that’s not just nonsense?”

“What would be the point?” Tajima lifted a brow. “That message made it very clear that Butsuma  _ intends _ us to take offense to the offer of his second son. Whoever wrote it is well aware of the consequences of this peace agreement failing.” He waited a beat then spoke directly to the Elders. “ _ Execution _ . The entirety of the other clans in Hi no Kuni banding together to  _ wipe us out _ . Are you willing for our entire  _ clan’s _ line of succession to be ended permanently over our  _ pride _ ?”

The Elders looked away, slowly subsiding.

“It is insulting, absolutely insulting, and if I get the opportunity to take Butsuma’s head for it without endangering the clan I will. However, according to our intel, Butsuma’s second son is so ill that simply making the trip from the Senju compound is likely to be a near death sentence. Someone with such a frail constitution isn’t likely to live long.”

“Are you suggesting poison?” Akane perked up.

“ _ No. _ ” Tajima huffed in exasperation. “I am  _ saying _ that Madara can wed the second Senju son and wait it out. Such an illness, even properly treated and tended, would send the afflicted to the Pure Lands without  _ any _ outside assistance within a few years. That the man has survived to adulthood is, by all accounts, a miracle.”

Madara’s nose scrunched in distaste at the idea of marrying for politics and then simply...waiting for his spouse to die. But he couldn’t disagree with his father’s suggestion. They were effectively trapped into these peace talks by the situation and had to tread carefully.

He tuned out the Elders weakening protests, knowing they’d just circle around the same arguments until they finally came to accept reality, and instead considered what he knew of Senju Butsuma’s second son.

For one, he knew his name. Hashirama had spoken often of his brother Tobirama during the meetings at the river in their childhood. The silly dramatic log had practically waxed poetic about how intelligent his ‘precious Otouto’ was. Apparently Tobirama had learned to read and write as well as any adult by age three and had a tongue sharp as any kunai. 

It made sense to Madara for a child confined to bed rest to develop sedentary skills like reading and writing rapidly when they couldn’t go play or train. A biting wit also made sense, it was likely the only weapon this Tobirama had and when your weapons were limited you learned to use the ones you had well.

The illness was confusing but more because no one understood  _ what _ the illness was. Some rumors came back that it was an affliction of the lungs, others suggested a weak heart, further rumors spoke of an illness of the blood, and still more told of a compromised nervous system. A couple people had come back with rumors of blindness. No one knew for certain.

He brought his attention back to the room as the Elders stood and filed out, obviously done arguing, though Yashiro looked particularly bitter. 

He met his father’s eyes as Tajima sat down again and saw the weary exasperation in them. He was looking at his future and he knew it but he was proud to be his father’s heir, to be the one that would lead the Clan one day when his father stepped down or died.

Tajima rubbed the center of his forehead. “Izuna, go make certain the Elders don’t agitate the rest of the clan. I want to speak to your brother.”

Izuna’s brows scrunched and his eyes went wide and pleading. “Can’t I stay? It’s not a secret talk is it?”

Tajima gave his youngest a flat stare. “Izuna.”

“Fi~ine. I’ll go keep Yashiro and the rest of the wrinkled old cranks from seeding rebellion.” He rose and stomped off, muttering about being sent away like a child.

Tajima snorted and poured two cups of tea from the still untouched pot. “If he wants to be treated like an adult he should learn to act like one.”

Madara accepted the cup his father handed him with a smile. “He does. He’s just selective about when that happens.”

A soft huff of amusement came from Tajima. He took a drink then sobered. “I meant what I said, that accepting the marriage and waiting for the sickly Senju to die is the safest, wisest course of action. But I will not force you to marry someone you don’t wish to, Madara. There are other ways we could reach peace with the Senju,” his nose wrinkled in reluctance, “without an arranged marriage.”

Madara shook his head. “No. You’re right. As...unsavory as it is to think about marrying only to wait for my spouse to die, this is the best choice for the clan. I won’t risk our people just for my comfort.”

Tajima smiled sadly and pat Madara on the arm. “Spoken like a true leader. I’m proud of you, Madara. I will pray to Amaterasu that things work out well for you, whatever form ‘well’ might take, along with prayers for none of this to blow up in our faces.”

A surge of happiness built in Madara’s chest at his father’s praise. It was a familiar feeling. Tajima never hesitated to let him or Izuna know when they’d done well, or when they’d fucked up either, and always,  _ always _ , Madara knew he was loved by his father. Tajima was his hero and he would do nigh anything his father asked of him. He was lucky that his father was not the sort to abuse that loyalty.

* * *

Tobirama sank down onto his futon after a day of doing his best to mitigate Butsuma’s nasty temper tantrum that continued on, dealing with Hashirama’s mortal offense over Butsuma’s marital alliance plan, ensuring the daimyo’s messenger and his Aburame guards weren’t suspicious over Butsuma’s easy capitulation, and training past the point of his body screaming at him to stop until Butsuma was satisfied he hadn’t ‘gone soft’ while away on his mission. 

He was exhausted, utterly worn to the bone. His head was pounding and he just wanted to sleep. Just roll over, curl up, and sleep until dawn. But he couldn’t quite do that yet. He needed to check in on the Uchiha, just in case.

He stretched his senses out across their territories and found the burning embers that made up the Uchiha clan. So much fire in their chakra, with the occasional crackle of lightning or solid weight of earth, the Uchiha compound was always easy to find. Even the stray flames that were night patrols along the borders or shinobi returning from missions were easy to pinpoint and suss out the emotions.

He felt agitation in several signatures, anger and anxiety, along with hope in many more. Some disgust and insult but aside from one all too familiar signature there was no violence or rage, nothing that could threaten peace. It was relieving.

He wasn’t certain if the Uchiha would agree to the marriage or if they would respond with a counter offer but they obviously weren’t gearing up to avenge their heir’s honor.

Thinking on that heir, Tobirama’s senses found the endless inferno of contained power that shone like the sun. He was well used to oceans of power within a chakra signature, Hashirama practically pulsed with power and always had, but this signature, that of Uchiha Madara, was different. Where Hashirama’s power was constantly flung out and reaching for everyone like a vine seeking to bind everything nearby together, Madara’s was restrained, shining out in careful control upon those he clearly loved without overwhelming them.

Hashirama’s chakra was brash and reckless while Madara’s felt...gentle and cautious. It had been that way from the moment Tobirama had first brushed against it when following Hashirama’s signature out to the river. 

That first brush had been something like a revelation. Had been like suddenly finding himself  _ warm _ after an eternity frozen and Tobirama had very quickly found himself addicted to the sensation. He’d developed the habit of searching out Madara’s chakra and falling into the heat of it.

Not often. It wouldn’t be wise to become dependent on Madara’s chakra. But when the cold, isolation of his birth clan’s disdain grew overwhelming or after a particularly awful assassination mission that left him  _ aching _ deep in his heart, he would reach out and sink into the sheltering flame of Madara’s chakra long enough to thaw or soothe the ache.

It was ridiculous to be so enamoured of the chakra of a man he’d never actually met but Tobirama could do nothing but accept that he  _ was _ enamoured of Madara’s chakra and keep that fact to himself.

The thick heat of Madara’s chakra was churned up tonight with the anxiety that gripped many of his clan but more with a bright shining  _ hope _ that was so strong Tobirama felt he could almost reach out and physically touch it.

He was loathe to imagine that hope being extinguished and knew, then and there, that if the Uchiha accepted the marriage contract he would do all he could to ensure that the peace took hold and grew strong. Not only for his brothers but for Madara.

And perhaps, just a little bit, for the opportunity to make Butsuma suffer when his grand plan turned around and bit his head off.

* * *

Tajima met Butsuma’s gaze across the negotiation table, the daimyo’s messenger standing off to the side with a small squad of Aburame as their witnesses, and saw bitter disgust in the dark brown of Senju’s eyes. It was clear that Butsuma did not want this to be successful. Well, call Tajima petty but he was diametrically opposed to letting Butsuma have  _ anything _ he wanted.

Madara could sense the very  _ instant _ his father fully committed to peace and knew it was because he wanted to ruin Senju Butsuma’s day. 

Tajima inclined his head in a slight bow, “Butsuma-sama.” Watching his hated enemy forced to respond with the same polite gesture did Tajima’s petty little heart good. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet for terms, Tajima-sama.” Butsuma’s expression held just the slightest hint of disgust.

“I’m happy to be doing so, Butsuma-sama. I do not wish to hand down an endless war to my sons.” Tajima smiled, able to do so because he was winning this little battle and Butsuma was handicapped and unable to do anything but agree.

Madara sat beside his father, listening as he and Butsuma took polite little potshots at each other while going over the final contract for the ceasefire and marriage contract. He glanced at Izuna and rolled his eyes at the way his little brother was smiling at Senju Itama, obviously angling to piss him off enough that the little magpie might take a swing.

Then he looked over at Hashirama, and frowned a bit at the look on his face. The Senju heir looked as though he was sucking on a sour lemon. Madara knew that this wasn't an ideal way for their dream to come to pass and that Hashirama loved his sickly brother, was likely unhappy that he'd be 'losing' Tobirama to the Uchiha but surely he knew that Madara wouldn't cause his frail brother any harm?

He caught Hashirama's gaze and lifted his brows in question.

Hashirama shifted slightly and glanced behind his father at the two Senju Elders and three other Senju shinobi that were attending the meeting.

Madara studied the five and aside from the kunoichi, who looked just as ready to go for someone's throat as the magpie, there was an edge of almost  _ joy _ hiding under the neutral expressions of the Senju delegation.

"Before we finalize the contract and the Uchiha bring him into your family, I feel it is only fair for you to be fully aware of Tobirama's defects." Butsuma offered a smile that was the most insincere thing Tajima had ever seen in his life and he'd seen a Nara forced to pretend they wanted to work.

Tajima didn't doubt this was one final bid to force the Uchiha to reject the ceasefire, a final attempt to make them take violent offense. He shot a hard look over his shoulder at his own delegation of two Elders and three shinobi. His glare a clear warning not to ruin this. Out of sight of the Senju, he also pinched Izuna's side both to double up on the warning and stop  _ his _ youngest from goading  _ Butsuma's _ youngest.

Hashirama, Itama, and the kunoichi all stiffened and Madara had the distinct feeling that if they could have gotten away with it, they would have all killed Senju Butsuma then and there. The nasty satisfaction that flickered over the rest of the Senju delegations faces at the word 'defects' cleared up his confusion of the cause behind Hashirama, Itama, and the kunoichi's anger. It had nothing to do with the Uchiha and  _ everything _ to do with disrespect given to Senju Tobirama by his own clan.

Madara was beginning to suspect that the second Senju son was not kept tucked away to protect him but out of  _ shame _ . Butsuma seemed the sort to be ashamed of a sickly child rather than treasure them.

Tajima returned Butsuma's smile with one full of teeth. "That's very considerate of you Butsuma-sama."

"Anything in the name of peace and cooperation." Butsuma lifted two fingers in a beckoning motion and called, "Tobirama."

There was a flicker that made all the Uchiha tense and then a shinobi, clearly strong and fit, with moon pale skin and hair the color of frost, appeared just behind Hashirama. His head was bowed respectfully, eyes hidden by a fringe of the frosty hair, and one hand came to rest on Hashirama's shoulder, long elegant fingers squeezing gently. 

Madara watched as Hashirama lifted his own hand, the nutbrown tone of his skin contrasting sharply with that of what could only be his brother, and cover the one on his shoulder. The gesture spoke of fraternal love deep as the roots of an ancient tree.

"Do greet your fiancee's family, Tobirama."

Madara caught the kunoichi's hand clenching on the shaft of her naginata and stiffened.

"Touka," the voice was deep and smooth, a pleasant stroke over heightened senses, and carried authority. Authority enough that the kunoichi and Senju Itama both subsided.

Then Hashirama's, very obviously  _ not _ sickly, brother drew in a deep, quiet breath, raised his head, and, with a single look at his eyes, utterly destroyed the thought process of every Uchiha present.

Madara's breath caught and he  _ stared  _ at the vision before them. Red eyes. Hashirama's brother, the brother that was being given in marriage to Madara, had the eyes of one of Amaterasu's Blessed. The hand of the goddess could not be more clear upon this man if she had come down from the sky herself to kiss his brow in front of them all.

Unknowingly, Senju Butsuma was handing him one of the greatest honors any Uchiha could receive. To wed one of Amaterasu's own children...Uchiha  _ dreamed _ all their lives of such a boon.

It was clear that the Senju as a whole had no idea what a gift they were simply giving away, clear that they  _ disdained _ Tobirama for his coloring, for his eyes of garnet. It took all of Madara's willpower not to strike out, not to rage at the disrespect toward one of the Blessed but he knew better. Uchiha were taught from birth just how precious the Blessed were but they were  _ also _ taught to  _ never _ allow those who were outclan to learn of the reverence they held for the Blessed. That way lie danger and a weapon to be wielded against his clan.

Tobirama bowed deeply to Uchiha Tajima, though he swore he heard one of the Uchiha delegation strangle a bit on air, and spoke respectfully. "Tajima-sama, it is an honor." Then he bowed a second time to Madara. "Madara-sama, I hope I do not disappoint." 

Madara made a choked sound in the back of his throat at the mere  _ suggestion _ that the glory before him could  _ ever _ be disappointing. He managed to force, “Not at all,” out but he knew it was weak due to his breathlessness. To make up for it, he stood, stripped off one of his gloves, and reached out to offer his hand.

Tobirama could feel the astonishment and awe that was bubbling in each Uchiha’s chakra and the eagerness to impress in Madara’s. He straightened from his bow, confusion making his shoulders stiff, and accepted Madara’s hand to test how he reacted to his fiancée’s touch. 

The bare skin radiated warmth and flickers of Madara’s chakra ghosted lightly against his skin. It took all of Tobirama’s considerable control to keep from shivering in pleasure at those flickers. He knew the technique. It was a uniquely sensor quirk, brushing your chakra against someone else the same way others might lay a hand on another’s back or arm in comfort. Madara was reaching out subconsciously to soothe him.

His eyes widened when Madara brought his hand to the Uchiha’s lips and pressed a kiss soft as a whisper to the center of his palm.

Dark eyes stared into red and Madara rumbled emphatically, “You could  _ never _ disappoint Tobirama-dono.”

Behind a face schooled to neutrality, Tajima was  _ losing his mind _ . There was not a single Uchiha that could claim disrespect of Madara when his arranged spouse was one of the Blessed, almost no Uchiha that would  _ dare _ to disrespect or threaten Madara's spouse when he bore red eyes and skin like their patron goddess. And Tajima was far from blind, he could see very well that, even beyond the Blessed red eyes and goddess skin, Senju Tobirama was a beautiful man. Even more than that, the fact that none of them had  _ sensed _ him before he’d appeared, the way he held himself, and the graceful economy of motion he displayed even performing something as simple as a polite bow spoke  _ volumes _ to Tajima’s experienced eye about the skill Tobirama possessed. This was a  _ strong _ shinobi.

Butsuma's attempt at insult and subversion had not only failed but come right back around to bite him on his ass though he would never know it. He had instead tossed away a skilled shinobi, his second heir, and would now be forced to follow through with his offer lest the entirety of the rest of Hi no Kuni’s shinobi come down on his head. Deep inside, Tajima felt the childish impulse to do what Izuna called a booty dance and flip Butsuma off. His inner child was absolutely cackling hysterically as it was.

Tajima saw the moment Butsuma realized he'd made a miscalculation and oh the flash of fury in the old rat's eyes warmed Tajima down to the very cockles of his soul.

Tobirama felt the surge of maniacal glee that flared briefly in Tajima’s chakra and the simmering rage that began to build in Butsuma’s and realized he’d missed something while he was preoccupied with Madara’s chakra and the shocking sincerity of his words.

He slipped his hand free of Madara’s, catching the quick flash of disappointment in the dark eyes. Cursing himself, and his infatuation with this man’s chakra, Tobirama reached out with his own chakra and brushed it briefly against Madara’s just strongly enough that he could feel it. Madara  _ was _ a sensor, which was a pleasant surprise and boded well for understanding Tobirama’s more confusing quirks, but his ability wasn’t as acute as Tobirama’s. It meant putting a little more force into the brush but Tobirama could see the awareness of it in the widening of Madara’s eyes and the way his expression lit up subtly.

Madara was practically dancing inside as he and Tobirama both sat down. Not only was his fiancée  _ not _ sickly, not only was he of the Blessed, but he was a strong sensor as well. He didn’t know what level of stupidity Senju Butsuma owned to be willing to allow such a jewel to leave his clan but Madara had every intention of making sure Tobirama came home with him and never had to suffer the stupidity of his birth clan again. With a few exceptions, obviously his brothers and the kunoichi valued Tobirama as he deserved and Madara would never block such affection from Tobirama.

As the meeting progressed, Madara noted the way Tobirama carefully and skillfully subverted any of Butsuma’s attempts at insult, turning them around to the Uchiha’s benefit without the man or the majority of his delegation noticing. From the faint smirks on Senju Itama and the kunoichi Touka’s faces they clearly recognized what Tobirama was doing and enjoyed it as much as Madara was enjoying it. That told him both that it was a common habit and that Tobirama was  _ clever _ .

By the time the ceasefire contract and marriage papers were signed and sealed, Butsuma had been forced into conceding to further peace talks with a daimyo’s representative present as a ‘neutral’ party and Madara was making plans in his head for a  _ massive _ offering to Amaterasu.

Tobirama stood and was ready for the rough shove of Butsuma’s hand that pushed him into Madara, though not quite prepared for the fact that Madara’s arms came around him, catching him carefully.

“He’s all yours now. Let’s go!” Butsuma snapped it out and took off, leading the rest of the Senju away from the meeting room.

The kunoichi and Tobirama’s brothers glared at Butsuma’s back and hesitated.

Tobirama slipped free of Madara’s arms and caught the three of them when they stepped forward to hug him. “You should not linger long.” His brow pressed to Hashirama’s. “He is already in a foul mood.”

“With luck he’ll choke on it and  _ die _ .” Touka hissed, absolutely unconcerned with the surprised and, in the case of Izuna, intrigued looks the Uchiha delegation cast her way. She rubbed her cheek to Tobirama’s. “I expect letters, brat. I mean it. Whether I have to send summons your way or you send yours mine.”

He ran his hand down her back and nodded. “I will.  _ Go _ . You have less leeway than Anija and Itama.”

She huffed but let go and, with one sharp warning glare on the Uchiha, ran after her current Clan Head.

Madara watched as his new husband was hugged tightly by his brothers, soft, quiet words exchanged before they parted reluctantly. He straightened when Hashirama called his name and caught the smooth river rock that was tossed to him before he was aware of what it was.

A glance told him it was inscribed with a date and time a week from now and ‘Come alone.’ He nodded in acceptance. That lifted some of the sorrow out of Hashirama’s eyes as he and Itama left.

Madara stepped up to his new husband and brushed his chakra carefully against him. “Shall we?”

Tobirama looked at him and inclined his head, walking out of the meeting room to make the run to the Uchiha compound.

* * *

Madara led Tobirama into the Uchiha Clan Head’s study and noted that tension tightened the skin at the corners of those beautiful eyes. He wondered how many times being called into Butsuma’s study had resulted in something bad for his new husband. Considering what he’d observed during the meeting and what he knew of the attitude many outside the Uchiha Clan held toward the Blessed, he’d guess that nothing good had ever come of meeting a clan head in their study for Tobirama.

Tobirama was unsure of his step. Tajima had requested he and Madara come with him to the study before attending the celebration of the ceasefire and Madara’s nuptials to explain an important matter. 

He could guess as to what several possibilities of that might be. Potential assassinations from within the Uchiha, how much Tobirama was expected to defer to Madara, barring Tobirama from training and weapons, or even barring him from exchanging letters with his brothers and Touka. None of those possibilities were tenable for him but he didn’t know Tajima well enough to gauge how best to work around any restrictions.

In addition, the staring of every Uchiha that had caught sight of him as he followed his father-in-law and new husband through the compound made his skin  _ itch _ . Staring had never led to anything positive in his life before and the odds of that changing were slim.

Tajima sat, not at his desk but far enough away from it to make this vaguely informal, and gestured to the two young men. “Please, be comfortable. This shouldn’t take very long and sometime tomorrow you are welcome to look through the histories for a more comprehensive explanation, Tobirama-san. But it’s best that you understand a few things before you’re subjected to the rest of the clan.”

Tobirama carefully lowered into a proper seiza but didn’t bow his head as Tajima’s choice of an informal area seemed to indicate no need for such. He felt Madara settle beside him, a broad warmth that inadvertently soothed his hidden nerves. “What are those few things, Tajima-sama?”

“It has to do with our patron goddess and how we honor her.” Tajima wanted, very badly, to activate his Sharingan to catch any micro expressions his son’s new husband might have. The former Senju had an absolutely masterful poker face. “Are you aware of who our patron goddess is?”

“Amaterasu-omikami-sama. Goddess of the sun, creation, order, and purity, Queen of Heaven.” Tobirama’s head tilted faintly, the smallest measure of surprise and curiosity. He certainly knew of all the kami. Shinobi were a superstitious lot and it paid to know who those you dealt with prayed to, their symbols, and what they ruled over.

Madara smiled faintly at the matter of fact tone in his husband’s voice. He suspected that, had Tobirama felt more comfortable, there might have been an undertone of questioning Tajima’s intelligence for his question.

Tajima nodded, hiding his amusement at tone he’d also picked up on. “We all believe that Amaterasu-sama gifted the Uchiha with the Sharingan. The actions of our progenitor pleased her so that she gifted those of his blood who, like him, hold love and the protection of those we care for paramount above all else with the strength and sight to see dangers and openings others miss. The color echoes that of Amaterasu-sama’s own eyes but lasts only so long as we need it to see the unseen or remember something vital.”

Madara saw Tobirama stiffen and shifted so that his shoulder brushed against his husband’s. He took up the explanation, wanting to make that tension vanish, “The Uchiha believe, and always have, that those who are born with red eyes are Amaterasu’s avatars, touched by her in the womb, as much her children as those who made them. Those with red eyes are Amaterasu’s most Blessed, those she works her will through. To an Uchiha the words and wishes of The Blessed carry more weight than any other authority for they come from the goddess herself.”

Tobirama’s eyes widened, his mind quickly assimilating that information as Tajima nodded in confirmation.

“Not that we advertise that.” Tajima folded his hands in his lap. “It would be an incredible weapon against our clan if others knew how sacred the Blessed are to us. Red eyes are rare, exceptionally so, but even rare there are two other Blessed within the compound. For our protection we keep the truth of our Blessed a secret. We also guard our Blessed, usually we keep them within the compound but then we have never found a Blessed who is a shinobi before.”

Madara watched the red eyes narrow and reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers over the back of Tobirama’s hand. “All the past Blessed have been content to remain behind our walls because they have all been civilians with difficult histories. They all prefer the safety and protection of the compound. But your word as one of the Blessed is more important than our wish to keep you safe. You will not be caged, husband, my word of honor on that.”

Tobirama wasn’t certain he quite believed that but he didn’t voice the concern. He could, at the very least, wait and see. “I am a shinobi and have been such since I was old enough to stand. It is not in my nature to stand back and allow others to fight my battles.”

“No, I can see that. As Madara promised, no one will attempt to cage you.” Tajima studied Tobirama calmly. “Might I inquire as to your usual role in the Senju forces?”

“Assasination and theft.” Tobirama’s tone was perfectly neutral. “Butsuma felt it was a better use to send me on missions that need invisibility.”

Tajima’s lips tightened. He understood the implication very well. Butsuma had wanted no one to see his second son and his unique coloring. “I see. Perhaps you might be willing to spar with Madara to demonstrate your less subtle abilities the day after tomorrow?”

Red eyes slid over to Madara, scanning contemplatively, then the corner of Tobirama’s mouth lifted in the very faintest hint of a smile. “I have no objections to that.”

Madara considered how strong Hashirama was, then considered that Tobirama certainly had sparred and trained regularly with his brother and he felt anticipation start buzzing under his skin. 

“Then that is all we need to discuss in private for the evening. Come, we’d best not keep the clan waiting to celebrate.” Tajima stood, waiting for his son and son-in-law to do the same.

Madara hopped up in a flailing scramble and offered a hand to a staring Tobirama, blushing at the idea of how ridiculous he must have looked. He couldn’t help it. There was clearly much more to learn about his new husband but what he had learned already made him want to impress Tobirama.

Tobirama looked at the offered hand for a moment, a little unsure. Never had anyone been interested enough in him to sacrifice their dignity and he didn’t quite know what to do with the fact that the only person  _ he’d _ ever felt interested in did just that. Regardless, their marriage was a symbol of peace that Tobirama had every intention of seeing become a true reality so he took Madara’s hand as he stood and, on the way to the Uchiha Courtyard for the celebration, he tucked his hand into the crook of Madara’s arm to present a unified image.

That it allowed him to soak in the warmth of body and chakra that poured off Madara was simply a pleasant bonus.

* * *

Tobirama woke to the sensation of his new husband’s explosive rage at the gate almost before he was aware that Madara wasn’t still sitting up in the room they’d retired to. His husband had informed him that they didn’t have to consummate the marriage right away, that he wanted to  _ earn _ his place in Tobirama’s bed, and all they had to do was give the appearance of sleeping in the same room to satisfy the contractual agreement. 

It had been a pleasant surprise. Which waking to incandescent fury was sullying.

He rose from the futon and quickly dressed in an incredibly soft, dark blue yukata that had been laid out for him, the Uchiha mon stitched upon the back of it. Then he went in search of his husband and answers to why he was so angry.

As he made his way to the gate he heard the Uchiha clan muttering about an ‘insult against the Blessed’ and working themselves up along with the clan heir’s shouting.

He saw Madara standing just inside the gate, speaking with a small group of Uchiha that were unhooking an ox from a wagon.

“What do you  _ mean _ that rat said they had nothing of Tobirama’s?” Madara grit through his teeth, leashing his chakra so he didn’t overwhelm the clan members who’d gone to get Tobirama’s belongings with it.

“Senju Butsuma met us at the gates and  _ informed _ us,” the kunoichi that was reporting sneered in anger over the remembered words, “that everything within the Senju compound belonged to the clan and nothing was Tobirama-sama’s to take.”

Tobirama had to roll his eyes at Butsuma’s dramatic stupidity. Of course the man had not even bothered to look in Tobirama’s former quarters or his lab, had simply assumed that Tobirama would leave his projects and belongings behind. Because Butsuma had assumed the Uchiha would reject him as Madara’s fianceé.

“That’s pure bull-!”

“Husband,” Tobirama spoke calmly, cutting through another explosion before Madara could get very much more volume on it, “I was well aware that Butsuma would not allow anything to leave the Senju compound after the fact.” He met Sharingan eyes without so much as a blink when Madara whirled.

The fury in his chest stuttered at the sight of Tobirama in an Uchiha yukata, the dark color setting his skin and the red lines on it off  _ beautifully _ . But the anger wasn’t so easily soothed. “It’s  _ wrong _ for him to deny you your belongings.”

Tobirama inclined his head. “It is, though right and wrong have never been any consideration of his, but I did not leave my belongings in the Senju compound when we went to attend the meeting.”

Madara blinked. “I’m sorry?” He choked a little on air when Tobirama smirked and pushed up a sleeve of the yukata, exposing more incredible red markings. Markings that, now that he was seeing them with the Sharingan, weren’t solid lines of color but seal arrays so thickly applied in subtly varying colors of red ink that they intertwined to appear solid to the naked, unenhanced eye.

He watched his husband touch two fingers to a complicated knot at his inner elbow and  _ unseal a book _ . Then he stood, stunned, and watched as Tobirama opened the book, which was full of sealing arrays, and unsealed a sword from one page.

“I packed all that mattered to me before leaving. I imagine Butsuma has yet to have sent anyone to clean my rooms or lab.”

“Hot damn.” Izuna, standing just behind Tobirama after having noticed him coming to see what Madara’s fuss was about, shook his head. “You’re a seal master?”

Tobirama hummed, absently resealing the book while hooking his sword at his waist. “For a given value of mastery. There are others who have more skill with fuinnjutsu.”

“Yeah and I bet they  _ all _ carry the name Uzumaki.” Izuna snorted. 

Tobirama’s lips twitched faintly. “Perhaps.” He gave his attention back to Madara. “Butsuma may have been insulting but it fell quite flat, no need to do anything but wait for him to discover his folly.”

Madara opened his mouth, about to refute that. Not only was it an outrage against the ceasefire and their marriage, it was a massive insult to Amaterasu’s Blessed and to let it go would imply that it was of no consequence. Then he considered the wicked gleam in red eyes and just how the rat might react to finding the things he intended to deny Tobirama missing. An answering smirk tilted the corners of his lips and he stepped up to brush his fingers lightly along the red stripe that trailed over one of his husband’s cheeks. “Clever husband. I suppose, in this case, it’s more satisfying to do that.”

The gentle touch made Tobirama’s heart beat faster. “Then shall we see to breakfast? I was woken quite unceremoniously by a loud shout.”

Madara laughed and nodded. “The least I can do after waking you is feed you.” He offered Tobirama his arm, smug satisfaction bubbling in his chest when his husband took it without hesitation. 

He heard Izuna mutter, “Lucky bastard,” as they passed him and tossed his little brother a cheeky wink, getting a middle finger in return. But yes, he  _ was _ lucky and he knew it. “What would you like to do, today?”

Tobirama slid a look at him, gaze passing over Elder Yashiro glaring at them from the shadows of the guard wall. “I believe Tajima-sama mentioned a library. I would like to go over the histories. It is best for me to come to understand Uchiha customs and culture to better assist my new clan.” He took note of the furious snarl the Elder made, hidden from the rest of the Uchiha Clan, before the man disappeared back into the shadows. 

Missing what Tobirama had seen, Madara was tumbling head first into love with his husband and didn’t see any reason to slow the fall. Lucky bastard indeed. He wondered what other delightful surprises his husband had up his sleeve.

* * *

Izuna dropped to sit beside his father, tea and iwashi senbei in hand, to enjoy the show. Everyone in the clan was eagerly finding a place to settle and watch the Blessed spar with Madara. After yesterday’s revelation of the sealing skills, everyone wanted to see what else Tobirama was capable of. “Madara’s in light gear.”

Tajima took an offered snack and nodded. “It was agreed to forgo heavy armor since Tobirama has none without the Senju mon on it.”

“Yet.” Izuna knew Madara would be on that as soon as humanly possible.

Tajima’s face softed faintly in amusement and he nodded. “Yet. I suspect your brother will be undertaking the traditional courtship gifts retroactively very soon.”

Izuna hummed and nibbled a sardine, watching his brother stretch out then pause as Tobirama stepped out into the training yard, wearing a grayish blue kendogi with sachiko stitching over a mesh armor shirt and the ubiquitous black shinobi trousers and sandals. He grinned at the way Madara stared. “Aniki has it soooo bad already.”

“Hm.” Tajima watched as his son and Tobirama stood on opposite ends of the training yard, waiting for Kikyo, who had offered to officiate the match, to signal them to begin.

Kikyo stood off to the side, lifted her small metal uchihwa, announced the combatants, then brought the fan down in a slice, “Hajime!”

Izuna choked on a sardine when Tobirama  _ blurred _ he moved so fast from his position across from Madara. Barely a blink and he was behind Madara, kicking the back of his knee to send him off balance. “Holy fuck.”

Tajima could only nod in agreement, leaning forward, Sharingan activating to better see. His son recovered well and twisted with the momentum of the fall, pushing one hand down to brace his body so he could spin and kick out with both legs at Tobirama.

The kick missed but it gave Madara time to recover and call up his Sharingan as Tobirama avoided the blow.

A clash of metal rang through the yard as Madara’s kusarigama blocked Tobirama’s sword, the chain wrapping around Tobirama’s arm.

Tobirama smiled and lifted his other hand.

“No fucking way.” Izuna gasped, snacks forgotten as he watched Tobirama make a series of one handed signs and  _ spit a fucking water dragon at Madara _ .

Madara cursed and quickly disengaged, dodging the water dragon’s first strike, then flew through the signs for a Great Fireball to counter the suiton that was  _ chasing him across the yard _ . The fire and water clashed, steam billowing and filling the yard, obscuring the vision of anyone not blessed with the Sharingan.

He found Tobirama in the steam and moved silently, intending to catch his husband in the kusarigama chain while he couldn’t see him, but was  _ rudely _ reminded that Tobirama was a sensor when his husband neatly avoided the ambush and threw a kunai with an explosive tag attached at Madara’s feet, forcing him to jump away.

A grin slowly crawled over Madara’s face. Tobirama was already proving to be more of a challenge than he’d expected. No more kid gloves then.

“Oh. Oh he’s got  _ that _ smile on his face.” Izuna scooted forward in excitement.

Tajima watched as Madara shook his hair back, wild grin on his face, and charged at Tobirama, flying through hand signs to unleash the ridiculously overpowered ninjutsu his son so excelled at.

It took all of Tobirama’s speed to avoid the attacks, giving him no time to respond. He wasn’t surprised. Madara was Hashirama’s only equal after all. But he had a trick or two up his sleeve even being put on the run like this. 

He ran toward Madara’s next attack, smirking at the curse his husband let loose, and nipped his thumb to swipe it down his summoning seal.

Izuna shouted and nearly fell off the engawa when a snow leopard the size of a  _ horse _ appeared and roared at the fire attack, a blizzard snuffing it out in midair. “What?!  _ What?! _ How is he even real?! What is this?! It’s crazy!”

Tobirama moved in concert with his summon, allowing her to guard his back as he quickly created a seal. Then he was ducking under her paw as she swiped it at Madara, leaping up to tackle his husband to the ground and setting the seal on his forehead, suppressing his chakra. He couldn’t suppress it all with a quick seal like that but it would be enough to even the field.

He was aware of bets being made as his summon vanished and he flipped back off Madara and allowed his husband to get to his feet. “Do the Uchiha usually bet on the outcome of sparring matches, husband?”

Madara felt the strain on his chakra and growled, both frustrated and  _ ridiculously pleased _ at his husband’s resourcefulness. “Only the really good ones.”

Tobirama smirked. “I suppose I should be flattered then.”

“Fuck yes you should, you beautiful little terror.” Madara saw red eyes widen at the compliment and used the moment of surprise to close the distance and clash his kusarigama with Tobirama’s sword again. “How about a bet of our own?”

Tobirama lifted a brow, the force of Madara’s muscle pushing against him forcing him back a step. “Such as?”

“ _ When _ I win,” Madara adored the way red eyes narrowed, “I want a kiss.”

Izuna and Tajima both slapped their hands over their faces at the same time hearing that.

Tobirama tilted his head slightly. “Very well,  _ if _ you win, I suppose a kiss is a fair prize. If I win, however,” he twisted his sword, forcing the kama part of Madara’s weapon to the side so he could whisper in his husband’s ear, his mouth hidden by the hair so no one but he and Madara knew what the request was.

Then he pushed Madara back and jumped a few feet away, waiting, sword pointed down, for Madara’s decision.

Madara’s eyes were wide, startled. Technically Tobirama could have asked him for what he just had outside of this and he would have been bound by the Uchiha culture to grant him the boon. The ‘prize’ his husband asked for fell well within what one of the Blessed could demand and he knew Tobirama was aware of that. Instead he’d made it a suggestion as part of a game, a prize for him to win, giving Madara the power of  _ choice _ .

He inclined his head. “Agreed.”

“What the fuck did he ask for?” Izuna hissed it out as Madara and Tobirama clashed again.

“I no more caught sight of Tobirama’s lips to read them than you did. How should I know?” Tajima huffed.

Izuna choked a little when Tobirama slapped Madara on the ass, and he was pretty sure that was a squeeze.

“That’s fighting dirty!” Madara yelled.

“Shinobi, husband.” Tobirama smirked then flipped backward from a brace of shuriken, hissing when one caught the belt holding his kendogi closed, forcing him to shed the garment or fight with the loose fabric as a disadvantage. He caught sight of Madara’s eyes raking over his body. So Madara wanted to strip him a bit did he? Turnabout was fairplay.

Izuna covered his mouth with both hands and giggled wildly as Tobirama employed his speed to cut Madara’s pants to ribbons without so much as drawing a single drop of blood. “I am  _ so _ glad I have my Sharingan on. I need to remember this for all time.” He lost it and slumped down into cackles when Tobirama made a final cut and the remains of Madara’s pants fell down around his ankles, leaving him with only his fundoshi and long battle tunic to guard his modesty.

Madara blushed and glared at his husband, clearly reading the amusement in Tobirama’s eyes. Sneaky, gorgeous little shit. He was  _ fantastic _ .

Tajima sighed, wondering how he’d raised children with such disregard for propriety. He stole the rest of Izuna’s iwashi senbei and nibbled on one as Madara rallied and clashed with his husband again. He snorted faintly when Tobirama dumped more water on his son, this time from above, soaking Madara to the skin and plastering his hair down, making him look a bit like a drowned cat.

“Stop that!” Madara bellowed.

Tobirama just smirked, panting from the effort of keeping up with Madara, and drawled, “Make me.”

Madara growled and slung his chain around Tobirama’s arm, yanking to knock him off balance. He swooped in, tackling his husband to the ground. He was about to pin him, was about to claim the win, and that well earned kiss. Then his husband pulled the most awful, underhanded,  _ evil _ little trick.

Tobirama flicked his chained arm so that the kusarigama’s blade caught his mesh armor, the edge sharp and strong enough that it split the protective gear right down the middle, exposing his chest and more of his seal tattoos. Madara’s eyes went to them immediately, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, and it gave Tobirama exactly the opening he wanted.

A quick twist of his legs and a flip had their positions switched and he didn’t waste time in pressing his blade to Madara’s throat, breathing heavy, eyes bright with the thrill of the fight, a smug smile curving his lips. “I win, husband.”

“Fuck.” Madara breathed it out. “How could you do anything but? You’re too beautiful for my sanity.” He watched pink color the tips of Tobirama’s ears and spread to his cheeks but his brilliant, beautiful,  _ sneaky _ husband didn’t budge, keeping his blade where it was.

Kikyo cleared her throat and gestured with the fan again. “Tobirama-sama is the winner.”

Tobirama moved his sword away but didn’t straighten. “You...” he looked into Sharingan eyes, reading sincerity and what looked almost like awe.

“Me. What about me?” Madara asked. He wasn’t about to ask Tobirama to get off him. He wasn’t stupid.

“Charming bastard. I won but,” Tobirama lowered his head and caught Madara’s mouth with his.

Madara’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull but he immediately leaned up into the kiss, allowing Tobirama to control it. It was soft, a testing slide of lips learning each other, and brief, but it left him with his heart racing and held firmly in Tobirama’s hands.

Tobirama licked his lips, chasing the salt of Madara on them. “You earned that.” He straightened and tapped the seal he’d placed on Madara’s brow, releasing it before he stood up and stalked over to his kendogi.

Madara stayed where he was sprawled out on the ground, one hand going to clutch at his chest, eyes fading back to black, and dazed. He turned his head to watch his husband don the kendogi again and accept a sash from one of the Uchiha children who bounded over. 

Tobirama belted the kendogi closed and glanced over at Madara and just smirked when he met dazed eyes. It was nice to know he could do that to his husband.

* * *

After dinner and bathing the sweat and grime of their sparring match off, Madara stepped into the quarters he now shared with his husband and paused just a moment to study him. 

Tobirama had a scroll, ink, and a brush out on the low table Madara used for a small desk and wore only a nagajuban. He looked...soft in the gentle light of the andon and Madara’s fingers itched with the desire to  _ touch _ .

He slid the door closed behind himself and padded over on silent feet to kneel beside Tobirama. “What’s this then?”

“For notes.”Tobirama looked over at his husband. “I asked to feel you activate the stages of your Sharingan to better understand how the chakra affects your optic nerves and, most preferably, find a way to heal the damage the Mangekyou does to your eyesight and permanently ward off more. At the very least I would like to slow the progression of the blindness.”

Madara’s eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s...why?”

Tobirama tilted his head slightly. “You are my husband,” and privately in his mind that was the most important reason, “The Uchiha are now my clan. When a genuine peace is reached, it will only benefit my brothers if the Uchiha are in as strong a position as possible. The clan heirs slowly losing their eyesight is a dangerous vulnerability. Why would I  _ not _ seek a solution to it?”

Madara reached out, pausing only to make certain his touch was welcome, and cupped his husband’s jaw. “Many might find reason enough in a centuries old feud, husband mine.”

The possessive turn added to the title sent a tingle down Tobirama’s spine. “Many would be short-sighted fools.”

A laugh rumbled out of Madara’s chest. “I guess so. As you like then, I’m your willing guinea pig.”

Tobirama scoffed lightly. “Guinea pigs make awful experimental subjects. They are far too given to dying under the smallest stressors.” Tobirama lifted his hands to touch his fingertips lightly to Madara’s temples. “We shall call you by name in my notes, husband.”

He felt the cool brush of Tobirama’s chakra against his coils and allowed his usual close proximity shields slip, allowing Tobirama to feel more. Madara caught Tobirama’s shiver, his ears taking on a tinge of pink, and realized that, unlike most people, his husband  _ liked _ his chakra. A great deal considering that reaction.

A warm satisfaction unfurled in Madara’s chest knowing that. “Whenever you’re ready, husband mine.”

Tobirama got a grip on himself, focusing on the task at hand. He moulded his chakra to feel Madara’s optic nerves using a diagnostic iryou jutsu in conjunction with his sensor ability monitoring Madara’s chakra coils. “Activate your Sharingan, husband.”

The chakra that flooded his husband’s eyes was dense, almost solid as the irises turned red and three tomoe flanked the pupil in a ring. “Hm. There is strain with the normal Sharingan but,” a closer inspection of Madara’s eyes with the diagnostic jutsu, “your eyes are structurally different from those without doujutsu. The cellular structure is adapted for the heavier chakra load. At most this level of Sharingan would exhaust your coils temporarily.”

Madara said nothing, recognizing that Tobirama was speaking mostly to himself, but he was held spellbound by the image of his husband being burned into his memory. Using his chakra, Tobirama was limned in a faint blue glow like the gift from Amaterasu he was.  _ How _ had Madara gotten so fucking lucky?

“Mmn, I see. The optic nerves are not quite as developed as your eyes themselves. That is where the force of chakra creates strain.”

Tobirama committed the way the chakra moved and reacted, the effect it had on Madara’s nerves and tissues at this lower level of Sharingan use, to memory before moving on. “Activate the Mangekyou.”

He watched in fascination as the tomoe blended together and spread into a new shape even as he felt a tsunami of burning chakra pour through Madara’s optic tenketsu along the nerves. The force of it was so great it actually tore tiny chains of cells in the optic nerves. The eyes themselves lit up with the chakra, structures within awakening and facilitating a unique pattern of movement for the chakra. “Hm. Are there any Mangekyou techniques safe to perfom indoors?”

“That I’m capable of? Only two.” Madara ignored the burning that using the Mangekyou always brought. “One is a genjutsu so that’s out. The other, I can only initiate the very beginning of it. It’s full form is too large for the compound. Susanoo.”

Tobirama made a sound of fascination as a cloak of purple chakra sprang to life around Madara, some of it so dense it became a physical construct taking the shape of rib bones. “Incredible.”

And damaging. More cells in Madara’s optic nerves broke under the unchecked force of the chakra. The pain had to be horrific. “Enough, husband. Enough for now.”

The Mangekyou faded from Madara’s eyes and, as the normal Sharingan slowly whirled, Tobirama switched from diagnostic iryou to actively healing. He carefully pieced the broken nerve cells back together, soothing away the pain as he healed the damage.

He watched Madara’s eyes close slowly, felt the tension in his body melt away on a sigh that lifted the wide, thickly muscled shoulders. Then the dense chakra slipped away and when his husband opened his eyes, Tobirama was looking into languorous black.

Madara saw Tobirama crisply still, none of the blurred aftermath that came with using the Mangekyou. In fact he’d be willing to say he was seeing more clearly than he had before the experiment. “Mmm, feels good.”

“I would hope so. Successful healing is meant to ease pain after all.” Tobirama made certain he’d found and corrected every tear and injury to Madara’s nerves before stopping and lowering his hands. “Too much chakra rushes through your optic nerves when using the Mangekyou. It damages a small number of nerve cells. Not enough to cause immediate blindness but the effect would absolutely be cumulative.”

Madara smiled, watching as Tobirama turned to quickly write notes onto the scroll. “So I need what, a dam for my optic nerves?”

“Hm,” Tobirama tilted his head, clearly giving the suggestion serious thought. “No,” he said it slowly, “not quite. A dam could break and the resulting flood of chakra  _ would _ cause immediate blindness. But a filter perhaps or something to control the stream.” He wrote quickly, abbreviated slashes of characters that would have horrified his old calligraphy sensei. 

Madara enjoyed watching Tobirama make his notes and use the keen mind, muttering softly about seal arrays and filters and an active structure that would let small pulses of the chakra through without causing damage. “Like a valve?”

Tobirama froze and jerked his head up to stare at Madara for a long,  _ long _ moment. He was used to people tuning him out or simply not grasping what he was talking about. But Madara... 

”Yes,” he breathed it out, “yes, precisely. A  _ valve _ . Much more practical than creating a continually active filter.” His eyes lit with excitement and pleasure that Madara had listened and contributed.

Madara swore his heart turned over in his chest at how  _ beautiful _ Tobirama looked, lighting up like that. “I’m glad I could offer a useful suggestion.” 

Tobirama hummed in acknowledgement and kept writing, hand a flurry of motion. He was still aware of Madara being there, aware of the sun of chakra beside him, but his focus was on getting the idea in his head out in writing before it flitted away and vanished. 

He stayed hunched over long enough that by the time he was finished, his spine cracked as he straightened. 

“Maybe we should have a proper desk moved into our quarters for you, husband mine.”

Tobirama’s eyes widened slightly and a small seed of dread curdled in his stomach. He was reluctant to look and see the anger or scorn that normally came after he’d ignored someone in favor of a project. But he’d never flinched from facing reality before and, no matter how much it might hurt, he wouldn’t start now.

He turned his head and  _ stared _ .

Madara’s face was soft with amusement and something akin to fondness. He was even smiling faintly.

Tobirama angled toward him, cautious and curious. “My apologies for my distraction, husband.”

Madara picked up on the hesitance and  _ swore _ he’d punch the next Senju he saw in the face. “Don’t. I liked seeing you work.” 

Tobirama felt sincerity pulsing in Madara’s chakra and realized that the comment about the desk had been playful teasing and not judgemental bitterness. Tension bled out of his spine and he fully relaxed. 

“It’s late though. You should get some rest.” Madara reached out to ghost his fingertips along the seal mark on one of Tobirama’s cheeks then stood to make his way to the corner and the zabuton he’d been sitting on to sleep.

“Husband.” Tobirama’s voice was soft. “I...would not object to sharing the futon with you.”

Madara whirled around, startled, and stared at his husband. Tobirama was blushing but his chin was up, expression determined. “You...”

“I am not ready for intimacy but I would,” Tobirama felt his face grow hotter, “I would like you to sleep beside me if you would be comfortable with that.”

Madara returned to kneeling in front of Tobirama in an instant, cupping his face in his hands. His thumbs caressed the seal marks. “Nothing would please me more.”

A slim white brow lifted. “You may wish to rethink  _ that _ statement.”

Madara understood the implication and had to laugh. “Alright. Very  _ little _ would please me more, husband mine.” He leaned in and pressed a whisper soft kiss to Tobirama’s cheek. “Shall we to bed then?”

Tobirama settled on the futon, curling up on his side, and waited. It wasn’t long before he felt the heat of Madara laying down behind him and a hand hovering at his waist. 

“May I-”

“Yes.” Tobirama curled his fingers around Madara’s wrist and pulled gently until the broad body of his husband was tucked up against his back.

Madara pulled the kakebuton up over them and curled his arm over Tobirama’s waist. He buried his nose in soft, fluffy white hair and breathed in the scent of jasmine tea and ink. He laid awake simply basking in being allowed to be so close to his husband as Tobirama fell asleep. This was a gift beyond price, much as his impressive husband himself was, and Madara could only hope he could somehow earn Tobirama’s regard.

* * *

Madara was at the Naka early and pacing as he waited for Hashirama to show up. He’d spent the last four days agonizing over how best to properly woo his husband. He wanted, of course, to offer the traditional Uchiha gifts but he had to tailor them to Tobirama’s tastes. He knew so little about his husband and, though he  _ was _ learning more, Tobirama was very quiet about his preferences.

Blue. He’d picked up on Tobirama’s fondness for wearing blue and had already commissioned clothing in varying shades of blue for him. He’d also noticed that his husband had exceptionally sensitive skin. The rash that he’d seen Tobirama waking with after the kakebuton had been washed with standard soap had  _ horrified _ him but his husband hadn’t complained, only unsealed bottles of some sort of wash and lotion to treat himself.

Madara had immediately gone to the laundry and spoken to the chief laundress, asking if there was a different soap available for tender skin and explaining the rash. She’d been as horrified as he was and assured him that they would make certain that anything that touched his husband’s skin would be laundered separately in the soap they normally used for newborn blankets and swaddling.

But he’d only learned that from observation, not from Tobirama telling him. He needed more information and he had a handy source meeting him today. If the damned tree would ever get here!

He sensed the vast green and wild, burgeoning life that was Hashirama's chakra approaching at last and when the other man came into view, Madara beaned him in the forehead with the rock he'd been given.

"Ow!" Hashirama rubbed his brow with a pout. "What was that for?!"

"I've been waiting for two hours."

"Whaaaat? I'm not late! I know I'm not late!" 

Madara huffed. "I might have come early."

"Then it's not my fault you were waiting! You're so  _ mean _ ." Hashirama folded his arms and gave Madara the look of the mortally offended. 

“To quote my husband,  _ Shinobi _ . Mean is a requirement.” Madara rolled his eyes then froze when he  _ felt _ Hashirama drop the dramatic pouting and turn deadly serious.

“My brother.” It was a quiet reminder. “To quote  _ my brother _ . How is my brother, Madara?” Hashirama turned the rock over in one hand, thumb smoothing of the engraved writing absently.

Madara knew that Hashirama could turn that stone into a lethal weapon with very little effort. The threat was clear and, rather than be insulted, it comforted Madara. It was more proof that, despite Butsuma’s repugnant behaviour, Tobirama’s brothers truly cared for him. “He’s adjusting. Uchiha culture is obviously different from Senju.” He met dark brown eyes. “He is my husband, Hashirama, and that position alone grants him respect from the clan.”

“And from you?” Hashirama’s hand clenched around the stone. 

“Even if there was nothing but the contract, he would still have my respect. There is no honor in anything else. But,” Madara folded his arms across his chest, “your brother is impressive outside of the contract. He’s...fuck it Hashi he’s amazing. How he lead Butsuma around by the nose during the meeting? Brilliant. He sealed his belongings, all of them, into a book he sealed in his  _ tattoos _ . Do you realize how difficult seals are to master and that level of mastery to layer storage seals without blowing something up? Incredible. A few days ago he and I sparred so the clan could come to understand his battlefield skills and...by Amaterasu’s robe Hashirama how could your idiot father allow such a fucking  _ treasure _ to leave his hands?!” 

Madara threw his hands up in the air and began to pace and rant about the spar, about his husband’s speed and sneaky tactics, about his facility with water jutsu and single-handed signs, about his swordsmanship, about his  _ summon _ , and, “He’s so fucking beautiful I lost braincells!” 

He whirled and saw Hashirama grinning at him, now flipping the stone through loose fingers. “What is that stupid look on your face?”

“You’re falling in love with my brother. I’m happy.” Hashirama lowered himself to sit on the edge of the riverbank and leaned back on his hands. His hair fell in a curtain behind him as he tilted his face up to the sky. “I’m happy, Madara, that you see Tobira so well, that you already value him.” A genuine sadness and not his mock depression darkened his expression. “Tobirama hasn’t had that nearly enough. I...I wanted to meet with you and make sure you understand my brother, Madara. You  _ need _ to understand him.”

“That sounds ominous.” Madara frowned and sat down beside Hashirama.

“It is and it isn’t.” Hashirama followed a cloud slowly drifting across the sky. “Most Senju...we tend to be devoted to an ideal, a goal. We tend to lose sight of the people around us in pursuit of that goal. You could say we miss the trees for the forest. But Tobi...he’s different. Tobirama holds his heart close and doesn’t share it with many and those he does share it with are precious to him. So precious that he sacrifices himself for them.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds more like an Uchiha than a Senju.”

Hashirama’s lips curved faintly, not quite humor, closer to nostalgia. “Or a Hatake. Our mother was the Hatake Black Scourge after all. Tobi took after her but he took it to a higher degree. He always steps in, always takes the blows, works himself past exhaustion into unconsciousness. What you’ve seen of him so far? There’s  _ so much more, _ Madara, and all of it was gained at a cost.”

The sorrow was thick in Hashirama’s voice. “You’re a sensor, a skilled one, but Tobirama puts you to shame. If he wanted to he could tell you what movements the clans on the border of Hi no Kuni are making. In fact, if he stretches himself he can tell you what the  _ Uzumaki _ are up to.”

Madara’s lips parted in shock. To have that level of sensing...it must be so  _ overwhelming _ . Tobirama must be bombarded constantly by the information of other chakra signatures and emotions.

Hashirama’s hand clenched on the ground, fisting dirt. “He’s a scientist, a genuine genius the likes of which you’ve never seen. If he’d been allowed to attend the daimyo’s academy he’d be an honored member of his closest advisors by now. He’s invented things that have made such a difference in the Senju’s daily lives and trade that we were able to expand the compound twice within five years.” 

Hashirama jumped to his feet and actually began to pace, twisting vines and briars following his footsteps. “He’s  _ created _ jutsu and his chakra control...you wouldn’t have seen it yet. It isn’t something he uses during simple sparring matches or even regularly during a fight. Water, in whatever form it takes, he doesn’t  _ need _ anything but the a gesture to bend it to his will. A flick of his fingers and I’ve seen him create ice in thin air.” 

He whirled to face Madara, his expression pained and holding a contained fury that was out of place on Hashirama’s almost always jovial face. “He can turn the  _ blood _ in someone’s veins into a weapon against them. He’s a healer, just as good, no  _ better _ than I am. Almost as good as Itama. He’s better than I am because of his precision. I can force regrowth but Tobirama can take what’s there and rearrange it so well nothing  _ has _ to regrow. He practically  _ raised _ Kawarama and Itama after our mother died, stood between them and Butsuma as our father lost more and more of his sanity. Tobirama had forever stood as sword and shield for us, even up to allowing himself to be married to secure peace for our safety and  _ I’ve never been able to protect him in return _ .”

Madara rose to his feet, recognizing the agony of an older brother who'd failed his younger brother in Hashirama’s face, and moved carefully to him.

“Tobi was always pushing between me and Butsuma, never allowed me to do the same for him, and I couldn’t...I  _ couldn’t get him to stop _ . My little brother wouldn’t  _ let _ me help him, wouldn’t let me force the clan to treat him with the respect he fucking well has earned. I’ve never been able to do anything for Tobirama. I-” A sob broke from him as Madara reached him.

Madara yanked Hashirama into a hard hug and allowed him to clutch at him, allowed him to cry out the rage and sorrow for Tobirama’s behalf into his shoulder. “You’ve done a great deal for your brother, Hashirama. You’ve loved him, made certain he’s aware you love him, and that is priceless.”

“He deserves more.” Hashirama choked off into Madara’s shoulder. “And I’m so happy that you’re falling for him because if  _ anyone _ can do for Tobi what he does for others it’s  _ you _ .”

“Damned fucking right I will. On my Sharingan by Amaterasu’s Blessing I do swear it.” It was a vow no Uchiha gave lightly, one Hashirama wouldn’t know but his friend would understand the weight in his voice. “I’m going to properly woo my husband, help me out with that bark-brain. What does Tobirama like?”

A watery laugh broke out of Hashirama and he released Madara, dragging his sleeve over his face to mop up tears and snot. “I won’t tell you  _ everything _ . Some you’ll have to learn yourself but, I can give you a few places to start.”

Madara grinned. Exactly what he wanted.

* * *

Tobirama was tapping a foot as he read, anxiously waiting for Madara to return. He’d felt his husband meet with Hashirama and more, he’d felt Hashirama have some sort of break down. It had taken everything in him not to tear out of the compound to see what had happened and how he could fix it.

He might have done so anyway but every time he’d tried there had been an Uchiha approaching him, asking to accompany him, asking to be his guard on his ‘walk’ and that would have caused more problems than was worth checking on his older brother when there was nothing life threatening happening. Not to mention he'd seen Yashiro sneaking around, watching and he certainly wasn't about to lead  _ him _ to his brother. So he’d retreated into the library instead and had been devouring as many scrolls and books as he could in the time since.

He felt Madara enter the compound and, rather than go with his first impulse of stalking out to find his husband, he reached out with his chakra and  _ flicked _ Madara with it. There was a quick flare of heat, surprise in the reaction, then Tobirama felt Madara’s chakra  _ wrap _ around him like gentle arms.

He dropped his book and swore his spine went liquid as he melted into the sensation of warmth tucking up all around him. It was a blanket that covered him and drowned out the ambient chakra signatures that he picked up whether he liked it or not. It left him feeling almost light headed for a moment.

He half closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, settling himself enough that he was able to pick up his book and find his composure by the time Madara stepped into the library.

Madara took in Tobirama’s elegantly proper posture and carefully blank expression, and the faint pink tinge at the tips of his ears, and smiled. “You called, husband?”

“You met with Hashirama.” Red eyes fixed on Madara’s face, one pale hand clenched on the book. “He was distressed. Has something happened among the Senju?”

Madara’s eyes softened and he made his way over to Tobirama’s side, reaching out and tracing his fingers over his husband’s cheek. “Not that he told me. He was venting on your behalf.” He watched the subtle tension leech out of Tobirama and the blank expression tinge with fond exasperation.

“I see. He has been dwelling on that,  _ despite _ telling him not to.” Tobirama clucked his tongue.

Madara’s fingers moved down Tobirama’s cheek and along his jaw lightly, part of him preening when his husband leaned into the touch subconsciously. “He loves you. Of course he worries. I imagine you worry for him.”

“He is such a reckless idiot, of course I do.” It was crisp but the pink deepened on Tobirama’s ears.

“Absolutely.” Madara chuckled and allowed his hand to drop and unhook a bag from his waist. “He sent you this.”

Tobirama took the bag, a simple drawstring affair, and opened it. His eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit within. “Blueberries.”

Madara’s breath caught slightly at the flash of simple joy. Oh he wanted to make that look spark in Tobirama’s eyes,  _ badly _ . “He grew the bush right by the river. It’ll probably get washed away next spring flood.”

“Hm. Do not count on that. Anija tends to root things deep.” Tobirama plucked a blueberry from the bag and popped it in his mouth, unable to help himself. “So Butsuma has not done anything further?”

Madara shifted and sat on the tatami mat beside Tobirama’s zabuton. “No. According to Hashirama he hasn’t even poked his head into your rooms. He says that Butsuma is preoccupied in his study. Which I doubt bodes well.”

“No. It certainly does not.” Tobirama’s mouth tightened, fingers flexing lightly on the bag of blueberries. “He will be trying to plot a way of ruining the next peace meeting. I should-”

“How do we kill him then?” Madara watched Tobirama freeze and smiled again, softly. “I haven’t had much time to come to know you, husband mine, but I already know that you’re not the sort to allow such a threat to remain.” He reached out and covered Tobirama’s other hand with his. “Nor am I. Hashirama, the bark-brained moron, is my friend, a failure of the ceasefire endangers all that I hold dear. So how do  _ we _ get rid of the threat?”

Red eyes took on a piercing intensity as they looked at Madara like they were peeling back the layers that made him up and investigating every last bit. He didn’t flinch from the gaze, met it evenly and lifted his chin just a touch, the stubborn gesture an invitation to argue and see how futile it was.

Tobirama tilted his head faintly, challenge flickering through him briefly, before he recognized the pointless fight that was staring him in the face. Madara was just as stubborn as he was himself and the conviction in his chakra made it clear he wouldn’t be moved. It was...odd. He’d never before come up against someone determined to help him with his schemes rather than talk him out of them.

“The Uchiha are not the only clan that the Senju have warred with. The Hagoromo are a very close second. While they are not particularly,” he pursed his lips faintly, “skilled in the quieter shinobi arts they  _ are _ renowned for their facility with poisons.”

Madara’s brows lifted and his smile took on the edge of a feral grin. “Assassination by poison, making it appear the Hagoromo are the culprits. You’d be looked at if the daimyo knows yous skills. We have to make it appear that you’re nowhere near the Senju compound at the time of the assassination.”

Tobirama closed the book and tucked the blueberries away on his own belt. “I have been working on a technique that would take care of that aspect. It is not ready. I keep running into issues.”

“Show me?” Madara leaned in, close enough that Tobirama could feel his breath against his skin. “Even if I can’t help I can be a wailing wall.”

Tobirama swallowed. The puff of warm air against his skin along with the way Madara’s chakra was still curling around him like a large cat made his senses tingle. It made him want to kiss his husband again.

So he did. A quick brush of lips, barely a ghost of a touch, before he rose and offered Madara a hand up. “The notes are in our quarters.”

Madara hid his smug satisfaction and the tingling of his lips and took Tobirama’s hand to allow his husband to lead him to their quarters and show him the technique he was speaking about.

* * *

Tobirama rolled his shoulders and molded his chakra carefully, splitting it and  _ pushing _ some outside his body. Madara had made a few sharp observations when he’d showed him the technique’s development that had solved the largest obstacles he’d encountered getting it to work.

A week on from the day he’d showed his husband the notes and he was ready to try it. In private. Madara was on the opposite side of the compound overseeing a project he’d been keeping secret, as was his right even if it was irksome, so Tobirama had the room to test the Kage Bunshin.

He didn’t want Madara witnessing a failure if it didn’t work.

A little more chakra and a puff of jutsu smoke, and then Tobirama was looking at himself. An identical copy right down to the speculation in the clone’s eyes.

“Hm, fascinating.” The clone went to the tansu and opened a drawer. “It worked. I am fully corporeal.”

Tobirama felt the familiar rush of excitement that a completed invention always brought. “So you are. Do you share my abilities?”

The clone nodded. “I can feel the chakra Madara has kept you, now us, wrapped in and when I reach past that I can sense the signatures in the compound.” A pause. “I appear to have a significantly reduced range however. And Madara is on his way here.”

Tobirama nodded. “Likely he felt the shift in chakra. Sensations?”

“Hearing and sight is the same. I do not think taste is particularly strong. As I do not have genuine organs that is to be expected. Smell is slightly muted.” The clone bent and ran a hand over the kakebuton. “Hm, touch appears sharper. Interesting.”

As the clone straightened, the door slid back to reveal Madara, a scowl on his face and hair wild. The scowl vanished when he saw two of his husband in the room. “You completed it.” Unerringly his eyes fell on the real Tobirama.

“I did.” Tobirama inclined his head.

Madara stepped in, closing the door behind himself, and sauntered over to his husband. “Well done, though I will admit to being disappointed I wasn’t here to see it.” He smiled and tapped his gloved fingers on Tobirama’s cheek playfully with the clone watching on. “I wanted to see you succeed at the impossible.”

Tobirama felt his ears grow hot. “Not at all impossible. Clearly.”

“Oh hush, just accept the praise stubborn man,” Madara huffed at him. 

Tobirama opened his mouth then pressed his lips flat. He didn’t know how to accept compliments and praise. He’d always been able to deflect his brothers and Touka before and certainly no one else praised him. But Madara...Madara couldn’t be moved from complimenting him and had proven it multiple times in the nearly two weeks they’d been married.

“That’s a start I guess.” Madara stretched up a little and brushed a kiss over the seal marking on Tobirama’s cheek. “Do you have time to indulge me in something now since you completed the jutsu?”

Tobirama blinked and tilted his head, curiosity lightening his expression. “Yes, I suppose I do.” He looked at the clone and it dispelled. He stiffened faintly, eyes going wide. “Oh!”

“Tobirama?” Madara frowned in concern, one hand gripping Tobirama’s arm lightly. “Did something-”

“No. Nothing went wrong. Merely an unexpected side effect.” The excitement of before returned and Tobirama moved quickly to make a note in the development scroll. “Memory transfer. What the clone saw and experienced transferred to me. Fascinating.”

Madara had to smile. He hoped to see this more often, see Tobirama in the grips of discovery many times in the future. “That’s something that would be a pretty big asset in training or infiltration.”

“Yes. Yes it would. I will have to experiment with the limits.” Tobirama mused. 

“Later.” Madara added, then lifted a brow when Tobirama turned to look at him. “Experiment later, husband mine.”

“Ah.” It reminded Tobirama that Madara had asked if he had time to indulge him in something. “Yes. Of course.” He finished making the notation and carefully sealed the notes away again before returning to Madara’s side. “What do you need me for?”

Madara caught Tobirama’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. “All sorts of things, multiple times a day.” He loved the blush that turned Tobirama’s ears a bright pink. “But right now, specifically, I wanted to show you what I’ve been overseeing.” 

“At the far end of the compound?” Tobirama faced forward as they left their quarters and walked down the hall, intent on pushing his bashful reaction to Madara’s words and touch down.

“Yes. You’ll have to tell me if it suits or if there need to be any changes.” He grinned at the glance he got from red eyes. “It’s a gift for you, yes.” 

“Another gift. You truly do not need to continue ‘wooing’ me, Madara. We are married there is no-”

“Ah! There’s a very big point, husband mine. You deserve to be properly wooed and I  _ want _ to.”

Tobirama growled in frustration. Madara had insisted on following the steps of Uchiha courtship since the day he’d seen Hashirama. It was awkward to have so many gifts and solicitous actions bestowed on him by his husband. It was far from anything he’d expected when he’d submitted to the marriage. At best he had expected indifference. Even when they had told him about the Uchiha Blessed his expectations hadn’t shifted much. He’d adjusted them to include more respect and attention when he spoke but this was very much beyond that.

Madara paid attention to him at all times. His chakra was always wrapping around Tobirama’s when he was in range and he took note of everything Tobirama did. Tobirama didn’t know what to  _ do _ with all that attention. He  _ wanted _ to bask in it, to soak it in, but he didn’t dare do so. To become accustomed to it would only make it hurt more when he lost that regard.

He made an irritable grunt when Madara tugged his hand playfully but didn’t pull away. Not even when his husband brought his hand back up to his mouth and nipped at his inner wrist. He did give Madara a warning glare. “I am perfectly capable of shaving you bald before you know it, husband.”

“I know and it’s ridiculously sexy.” Madara grinned at the blush now spreading from Tobirama’s ears across his cheeks.

“Is that a  _ you _ thing or do all Uchiha say such things?” 

“Uchiha like pretty, deadly things. I am well known to be the most intense of my clan and you, husband mine, are the prettiest, deadliest person I’ve ever seen. How could I find you anything but delicious?” Madara wanted to cackle in glee at the frustrated huff Tobirama made. He was learning how to get his husband to drop that oh so composed mask he liked to hide behind and each time it was a delight. He couldn’t wait to see Tobirama actually snap.

“Absolutely mad.” Tobirama muttered as they rounded a corner and came upon a construction site. He frowned. “What is this?”

Madara pulled him to the site until they were in the center of what would be a building. “This is going to be your new lab.”

Tobirama’s head snapped around from where he was inspecting the site to stare at Madara. “What?”

“You need a proper work space, a proper lab, for your projects. There wasn’t any structure within the compound that was appropriate for conversion. The walls aren’t up to containing seal or jutsu accidents. So we’re building one.” Madara gestured at the masonry that was being laid. “Stone should contain-”

“You have lost your mind.” It was more whisper than anything, Tobirama’s eyes almost painfully wide, his face had lost the blush and looked even paler than usual.

Madara scowled and stepped up to him, pausing when his husband took a step back. “Tobirama?” he asked carefully.

“You...you can not  _ do _ this.” Tobirama gestured around at the building going on, disregarding the Uchiha now watching them. “You can not construct a  _ stone building _ to give me a lab. The material cost and labor is too much. The time is better devoted to things the clan needs. I am not  _ worth _ all of that.”

The Uchiha around him froze, all of them gasping as one to hear one of the Blessed so disparage themselves.

“I have not done anything to earn such an undertaking. There are containment seals that can be applied to an unused storehouse as I did at the Senju compound. They work very well. There is no need to- what are you doing?” Tobirama backed up as Madara stalked toward him, stripping off his gloves, until his back fetched up against a support post.

Madara’s expression was thunderous, his chakra spiking with heat from temper, but his hands were gentle as he cupped Tobirama’s face in them. “You. Are. Worth. Every. Stone. And. Hour.”

“I know that the Blessed are important but-”

“No.” Madara cut him off, and nearly gave some of his clan an apoplexy with the disrespect of it. “As the Blessed you are important to the clan, that is true, but you are important to  _ me _ . As my husband and as the  _ incredible _ man you are, Tobirama, you are  _ important _ and you are  _ worth _ all that it is in my power to give you. It’s  _ infuriating _ that you have been so maligned by the Senju that you can doubt your value.”

“I’ve done nothing but-”

Madara interrupted him again, and ignored the scandalized bark of reprimand from one of the nearby masonry masters, “You do not have to  _ earn _ gifts, husband mine, you do not have to  _ earn _ your place in this clan or at my side. It is yours, freely given, from people who value  _ who you are _ .”

He felt Tobirama tremble faintly.

“We are being observed.” He caught Yashiro lurking around the edges of his visions and though he was taller than Madara, Tobirama tried to shrink, tried to appear smaller, to draw less notice.

It made Madara want to run raging to the Senju compound and tear apart anyone who had ever made his husband feel lesser. But indulging in that desire would ruin Tobirama’s efforts for peace, would ruin the work he’d done to get them this far, and would be the equivalent of spitting on what they’d already built.

Instead he curled his arm around Tobirama’s shoulders and used a shunshin to move them both back into their quarters. Once they were in private, he pulled Tobirama in close against him. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I stand by what I said but I am sorry for interrupting you to say it.”

“You are still angry.” Tobirama didn’t try to push away, holding still and allowing Madara to embrace him.

“Not at you. For you but not  _ at _ you.” Madara ran one hand up and down Tobirama’s back.

“ _ Why? _ ” It was a confused demand with the faintest tremble behind the word.

“Why? Because I care about you, why else?”

“You hardly even  _ know _ me. You met me for the first time almost two weeks ago. How can you care so much about someone you have not known for a full fortnite?!”

Madara pulled back to meet Tobirama’s eyes, his own going to Sharingan with the force of his emotions. “I  _ do _ know you, Tobirama. Not the tiny details that come from living with someone for years, but I  _ know _ you. I have more to learn, like more of your pet peeves and the small things that make you smile, but who you are at your core? Yes, I know you. You’re clever,  _ fierce _ in defense for those you call yours, vicious tongued when you feel someone deserves to have their ego cut to ribbons,” Madara grinned a bit, clear in his appreciation of that quality, “strong both in body and soul. 

“You can not be  _ moved _ from the path you’ve chosen and you stand unflinching on that path, kind to the innocent and wounded, I have  _ seen _ you with the clan’s children, husband mine, so don’t try to argue that one.” He caressed Tobirama’s cheek. “Ruthless, quite a sharp temper hidden under that mask you wear, and you like to play and tease. I know you,” Madara looked into the crimson eyes of his husband, “and I love you.”

Tobirama’s breath hitched, his eyes widening, and his body jerked in shock. “You... _ what _ ?”

“I love you. I’m an Uchiha, we tend to fall quickly, and I’ve felt your chakra against mine,  _ seen _ you with the Sharingan so many times already just to burn you into my memory. I’ve seen and felt who you are and I love you, Tobirama.”

Madara’s chakra blazed with conviction and honesty to Tobirama’s senses. He meant it. Madara  _ meant _ it, he loved him. And Tobirama knew that once an Uchiha loved they  _ never _ stopped, never stepped back. The records and watching the clan made it clear that, while it could be obsessive and possessive, an Uchiha’s love was as eternal as the sun itself. 

Tobirama’s heart pounded in his chest and he slowly lifted a hand to Madara’s face, softly brushing the fringe that half hid his face aside. This man, this irascible, charming, volcanic fury of a man, loved  _ him _ . He’d never dared hope for that, wished for it perhaps but never hoped, and having that, knowing it wouldn’t fade or be taken away, made a million emotions swell in Tobirama’s chest with only one outlet.

He leaned in, dipping his head, to press his lips to Madara’s in a kiss. It was different from the first one he’d given his husband, harder, more intense, and began to stoke heat between them.

Madara made a soft hum in the back of his throat and splayed his hand at the base of Tobirama’s spine, pulling him in closer. He stroked his other hand down the column of his husband’s throat, feeling the hammering pulse as he pulled back from the kiss. “Tobirama?”

“You...I can not...” Tobirama rested his brow against Madara’s. The words he  _ wanted _ to say wouldn’t come loose. He loved Madara, knew he had done so for some time and labeled it infatuation, but he couldn’t get it out. “I am not good with words that...”

Madara blinked, the Sharingan fading from his eyes as he realized what Tobirama was trying to say. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say it yet, darling.” He felt the shudder the endearment drew from Tobirama. “You don’t have to say it until you’re ready.” 

Tobirama met the liquid black of his husband’s eyes. “May I  _ show _ you?”

“How-” Madara swallowed hard when Tobirama pet a hand down his back and over his ass even as he stepped closer, their bodies pressed hard against each other. “Oh,” he breathed it out, “by the Goddess  _ yes _ . If you’re ready for that,  _ yes _ .”

The clear  _ hunger _ in Madara’s tone, the way he could already feel his husband hardening where they were pressed together, had a curl of heat unfurling in Tobirama’s belly. He tilted his head and caught Madara’s mouth with his again.

He sank one hand into Madara’s hair and pulled lightly, taking advantage of the gasp it that came from his husband to suck Madara’s bottom lip into his mouth. He nipped at the soft flesh, drew it through his teeth, and backed toward their futon, pulling Madara with him.

Madara groaned and pushed into the kiss, his tongue flicking out to lick at Tobirama’s top lip then diving in to rub against his husband’s when Tobirama released his lip and opened up to him. He ran his hands down Tobirama’s back and over his hips, purring at the hard muscle flexing underneath the yukata his husband wore. 

He pulled back to kiss along Tobirama’s jaw, his hands going to toy with the knot of his husband’s obi. He pressed a sucking kiss over Tobirama’s pulse. “What do you want, Tobirama? How do you want this, darling?”

Tobirama moaned and leaned his head back to give Madara more room. “I want you, Madara.”

The sound of his name from his husband, Tobirama’s deep voice thick and sultry with growing arousal, sent a surprising bolt of savage hunger through Madara. He sucked hard on the pale, delicate skin, devoted attention to leaving a mark  _ everyone _ would see. “How do you want me? Anything you want, darling, anything.”

“Fuck.” It came out a husky whisper and Tobirama’s hands went to Madara’s belt, deftly undoing it so it fell to the floor. “I want  _ you _ . Over me,  _ inside _ me, Madara.”

Madara groaned and bit at the skin under his mouth before lifting his head to catch Tobirama’s mouth with his for another deep kiss. He pulled the knot of Tobirama’s obi free and unwound it so he could slip his hands inside the yukata, push it off his husband, and caress the skin beneath. 

Tobirama leaned into Madara’s touch, the heat of his hands and the calluses dragging over his skin a delicious counterpoint to the cool air that surrounded him. He gripped Madara’s hair again, pulling back to break the kiss and catch his breath. “Your tunic, take it off.”

He bit off a curse, reluctant to stop touching his husband, but stepped back just enough that he could grab the long tunic and pull it up and off. Then he stood there  _ staring _ at the sight of Tobirama taking off his fundoshi. He’d only caught glimpses of the seal tattoos, only seen bits here and there, before. Now all of Tobirama was on display and those lines with him. 

Red lines swirled in graceful curves over Tobirama’s shoulders, two sliding up either side of his throat and along the underside of his jaw to end in the point on his chin and the sweeps across his cheekbones, three branched off to curl around his biceps, down the arm, and ending just short of the wrists, more swept over sharp collarbones to come to a sweeping end at the centerline of Tobirama’s chest. Red followed the lines of Tobirama’s ribs and rippled down flanking the flat plane of stomach until they ended with a sharp hook at the crest of his hips. More lines clearly came from behind to echo the marks on Tobirama’s arms, coming to an end just above the ankles.

The lines rippled with muscle as Tobirama moved, all sleek, lethal power in a long, lean package. Small, silvery scars marked the moon pale skin here and there but they were clearly well healed and only showed just how dangerous and strong Tobirama was. Madara’s mouth went dry, his tunic dropping from his hands as he devoured the sight of his husband. “You’re  _ glorious _ .”

He watched a blush sweep over Tobirama’s cheeks but the red eyes returned his regard, sliding over Madara in a slow, thorough inspection that ended with a ridiculously sexy smirk.

“You are not bad yourself, if still a bit overdressed.” Tobirama looked pointedly at Madara’s black trousers, lifting a pale brow.

Madara scrambled out of his pants and fundoshi as quickly as he could and didn’t feel the slightest bit of embarrassment even when Tobirama laughed. How could he be embarrassed when his husband immediately went to him and pulled him in for another kiss? 

He put his hands on that glorious,  _ gorgeous _ body again, following the memory of the lines with his fingers. He sucked on Tobirama’s tongue as he gently tumbled them down onto the futon, kneeling over his husband and reveling in the permission to touch. 

He lifted his head to look down at Tobirama’s flushed, heavy lidded face. “Gorgeous.” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against Tobirama’s. “Is there anything you don’t like, darling? Before we get too deep.”

Tobirama shuddered at the endearment again and his throat went a little thick at the question, at the  _ care _ . He shook his head. “Not that I am aware of. However, I have not experimented very much. Sex never interested me for its own sake.”

“Hmm,” Madara pressed a kiss to Tobirama’s collarbone, licking along a red line, “we’ll play and experiment in the future if you want to then, darling.” He loved the shiver, loved how responsive his husband was to love words. “For now, simply tell me if there is anything you don’t like.”

“You will be the first to kn-oh!” Tobirama arched with a little mewl when Madara’s hot mouth latched onto one of his nipples. A flash of electric sensation from the heat and suction seemed to arrow directly to his groin and his hands gripped tightly at Madara’s shoulders as lust left him breathless.

Madara rumbled in satisfaction, lifting his head to ask, “Good?”

“Yes,” Tobirama panted it out then shivered as Madara laid a pathway of biting kisses over to his other nipple. He moaned, loud and long, as teeth scraped over the nub, his nails digging into his husband’s shoulders.

“You are a  _ delight _ , darling,” Madara purred. He devoted himself to drawing more mewls and moans from Tobirama by playing with his wonderfully sensitive nipples. In very short order he had his husband writhing beneath his attention, twisting and panting and shoving at his shoulders.

“T-too much. I-I think I could come just from-” Tobirama moaned and shivered again.

“A  _ fucking delight _ . I’m a lucky bastard.” Madara cupped the back of Tobirama’s head and pulled him up a bit for a long kiss, petting a hand down his side to soothe and gentle him down a little. He nuzzled his way back down Tobirama’s throat, kissed the hollow between his collarbones. “Be right back, darling.”

“Where?” Tobirama watched Madara stand and walk to the tansu, rummaging through it. He licked his lips, his eyes tracing the thick layers of muscle, the scars littering the body of the man he’d wedded, and dropping to the erect penis that bobbed when Madara shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“Lube.” Madara muttered, growling softly. “I  _ know _ I have some.”

Tobirama stretched a little where he lay and smiled as Madara made a sound of triumph when he found the bottle of lube.

Madara turned, a grin of his face that fell off when he saw Tobirama laying stretched out there, a soft, fond smile on his beautiful face. He was so beautiful.

He lifted a hand out to Madara, curling his fingers to beckon. “I am waiting, husband.” Tobirama felt the heat stoke higher again just at the awestruck and hungry gaze Madara was giving him. It made him feel wanted, desirable,  _ valued _ in a way he’d never been by any but the man before him. “Come make love to me, Madara.”

Madara made a sound somewhere between a growl, a moan, and a whine and moved quickly so he was hovering over Tobirama again. He kissed his husband, soft and slow, then kissed his way down Tobirama’s throat, pausing to leave a second mark there, and chest. He flicked his tongue teasingly over one nipple and laughed softly at the quick tug on his hair. “Another day, darling.” 

He pressed a kiss to Tobirama’s sternum and dragged his tongue down the flat stomach, dipping the tip into his navel, until he was eye level with Tobirama’s cock. “Pretty everywhere.”

“If you do not-” Tobirama made a strangled groan when Madara licked his cock. “Fine. Do as you please.” His voice was breathless.

“Oh I plan to.” Madara pulled Tobirama’s legs up over his shoulders. He smiled, looking up his husband’s body, and curled one hand around the shaft of Tobirama’s cock. He lapped at the head, the soft moan from Tobirama the only praise he needed to continue. 

He opened the bottle of lube and poured a stream of it down the crack of his husband’s ass, using his free hand to spread the slick around while his other stroked Tobirama’s cock and held it steady for his mouth.

Tobirama’s breath caught when wet heat enveloped the head of his cock, his hands went to the towel-ketto covering the futon beneath him and clenched there. He let his head drop back, his throat and back arching as Madara took more of him into his mouth, pulled back then took a little more in.

Fingers slipped over the tight pucker of his anus, spreading lube and pressing gently, massaging the muscle, coaxing it to relax. He moved his hips back, pushing into the touch. “Please. Madara, please. I-”

Madara pulled his mouth off Tobirama’s cock and kissed the inside of his thigh. “Shhh. I’ve got you, darling. I promise, I’m going to give you everything you want. I’m going to fill you up, spread you wide on my cock, and come deep inside you.”

A desperate whine broke from Tobirama’s throat.

“You make such lovely sounds, darling.” Madara nipped at the tense thigh under his mouth. “I can’t wait to hear how you sound when you come but I have to open you up for me. I’m not going to hurt you, husband mine. I’m going to stretch you around my fingers, make it so good for you you’re riding my hand, then I’ll give you just what you want.”

Tobirama keened as he felt the first finger breach him with that promise. He bent, curling up and reaching out to grip Madara’s head, needing to anchor himself in Madara somehow when that hot, sinful mouth took his cock again.

He shuddered and whined as Madara prepared him, slowly adding fingers one by one, spreading them inside him and stretching him out until he was a quivering mess trying his best to push back into three fingers fucking him  _ maddenlingly  _ slow. He shuddered and pulled hard on the hair in his hands, yanking Madara up off his cock, disregarding the startled yelp. He glared down at his husband. “I swear,” he panted, flushed and riding the fingers inside him, “by every god and goddess, if you do not get up here and get  _ inside _ me, I will tie you up, sit on your cock, ride you until I get off, then leave you  _ wanting _ , Madara.”

Madara’s eyes flicked to Sharingan, memorizing that furious, needy glare, and licked his lips. “We can do that another day.” He grinned at the startled expression that flicked over Tobirama’s face and slid his fingers out. 

Tobirama moaned at the loss and squirmed, watching as Madara poured some lube over his cock and stroked himself to spread the liquid along the shaft. Then his husband was crawling up his body again and capturing his mouth in a hard kiss. He could taste the faintly bitter flavor of his own pre-come on Madara’s tongue and groaned into the kiss, dropping his legs to wrap them around Madara’s hips so he could grip his husband’s shoulders tightly.

Madara rubbed the head of his cock over Tobirama’s hole once, twice, then paused at the warning growl his husband made before he did it a third time. He smiled, appreciative of his lover’s refusal to put up with anymore teasing, and set his cock against the loosened pucker, pushing forward slowly. 

He groaned into the kiss as his cock was surrounded by the clinging heat of his husband’s body.

A whine slipped past Tobirama’s lips as the overwhelming stretch of finally being filled with Madara’s cock made his head swim. He pet his hands down his husband’s arms, purring at the tension held in the thick biceps. Breaking the kiss, he nipped along Madara’s jaw to bite and suck at his earlobe. He murmured into the ear he was toying with as his arms went around Madara, “Move, husband. Give me what we both want.” 

Madara shuddered and whispered an oath at the nibbling and sultry voice in his ear. Then he gave Tobirama what he’d asked for. Pulling back until he almost slipped free of his husband’s body then rolling his hips to slide back in, he set a slow, deep pace.

He pressed his mouth to Tobirama’s throat as he thrust. He tasted the salt lingering on the sweat damp skin and the fire rose higher in the both of them. “I’m going to watch you come for me, going to watch your beautiful face with the Sharingan so I will never lose the memory. You’re so gorgeous, darling, I never want to forget this moment.” He pushed up to look down at at the flushed face of his husband and rolled his hips at just the right angle.

“Ah!” Tobirama cried out as a jolt of intense pleasure shot through him, leaving his spine tingling in the aftermath. “Fuck. Madara,” his hands found Madara’s back, his body arching as he demanded, “do that again, my husband.”

A growl of satisfaction rumbled out of Madara at the possessive and he did as ordered. He rolled his hip and thrust harder to see Tobirama’s neck arch and hear him cry out. The bite of nails on his back were a delicious spur to move a little faster.

Tobirama didn’t bother trying to stifle the cries each thrust pulled out of him. Instead he sank into sensation, sank into each hard, rolling thrust that tightened the know of tension in his belly, into the heat of Madara’s skin under his fingertips, and into the flicker of his husband’s chakra against his. It all blended into a firestorm he had no desire to escape.

A hand curled around his cock, stroking in time with each push and pull of his husband’s cock inside him. His nails dragged up Madara’s broad back, his legs tightened around the thrusting hips, and he pushed into each motion. “Madara!”

“That’s it, darling,” Madara’s voice was a husky purr, “take what I’m giving you. Take your pleasure. You feel so good around me, so hot and tight, so perfect. I want to watch you.” He pumped his hand a little faster. “I want you to come for me. Let me see you, darling. My darling husband,  _ my _ Tobirama. Come for me.”

How could he do anything but? Another thrust pressed into the bundle of nerves inside him combined with a clever twist and a press of a thumb into the slit at the tip of his cock and sent him flying over the edge into ecstasy with a cry of his husband’s name.

Madara shuddered as Tobirama clenched around him and splattered his spend over their bellies. He watched the beautiful face tighten and contort in the throes of orgasm, burning the sight into his mind in perfect clarity with the Sharingan.

He thrust a little faster, seeking his own release, and shouted, falling down into Tobirama’s arms when it found him. His hips jerked as he came inside his husband, his mouth brushing against Tobirama’s ear as he purred praise for him and they shuddered together in the aftermath.

Tobirama made a sound of protest when Madara moved as if to roll off of him. "Stay."

"'M heavy." It was a rough murmur against the skin of Tobirama's neck.

" _ Shinobi _ ." Tobirama summoned up the energy to tighten his arms around Madara. "I am perfectly capable of bearing your weight.  _ Stay _ ."

He relaxed again when Madara settled back down on top of him, pressing him into the futon. It was comforting, the weight and heat of his husband's body covering him. He felt...shielded in a way that didn't make a mockery of his own abilities or cage him in. It was a luxurious sensation and he was loathe to let it end.

Madara caught his breath and lifted his head to look down at Tobirama. His husband looked like a particularly satisfied feline, something that stirred pride in Madara's breast. He softly nuzzled Tobirama's nose with his, carding a hand through downy soft hair and smiling at the blissed out noise Tobirama made. Then, despite his husband's protests, he slipped out of him and got up to find a cloth to clean them off with.

It didn’t take long. Luckily he didn’t have to cover himself and venture outside of their room to find a small basin of water and a cloth. He knelt beside Tobirama’s now sprawling form on the futon and ran the dampened cloth over pale skin striped with red, cleaning away sweat and come.

Tobirama made a purring sound at the attention, breath hitching slightly when Madara lifted one of his legs to gently clean away come and lube from between his ass cheeks. 

Madara pressed a kiss to Tobirama’s ankle when he finished and lowered the leg down to the futon again. Then he cleaned himself off quickly and tossed the cloth in the basin, setting it out of the way, before he lay back down beside Tobirama and pulled him into his arms.

“Mmm.” Tobirama happily burrowed into Madara’s arms. He knew they should get up, should dress and deal with the building and their usual responsibilities, but he didn’t  _ want _ to. For once he was feeling just content enough, just lazy enough, and just secure enough to decide to put off the rest of his day’s tasks for self-satisfaction.

They could worry about their responsibilities, including planning when to kill Butsuma,  _ after _ a nap.

* * *

Madara watched his husband don dark blue clothing, carefully wrapping any trailing cuffs down with matching strips of cloth, and tuck small, concealed weapons away. Nothing was left loose or allowed to stick out, nothing to catch and cause a commotion. The ease with which it was done spoke very clearly to how often Tobirama had prepared for a stealth mission before. He was proud of his husband’s skill but at the same time it curdled his stomach to know all the times and ways he could have lost his beloved before even coming to  _ know _ him.

Tobirama slid on long fingerless gloves with a covered metal plate covering his forearm that matches the rest of the gear, made certain they were secure, then looked up to meet the intense gaze of his husband. He frowned in concern. “Madara?”

“I hate that this is necessary.” Madara moved over to Tobirama and cupped his face, thumbs stroking the red stripes on his cheeks. “I know it is and I know that now, with the daimyo here to ‘celebrate’ our marriage,” he rolled his eyes meaningfully, “is the best time for it. I still hate it. I don’t like you walking alone into danger, darling, regardless of how capable you are.”

A small smile curved Tobirama’s mouth. He’d slowly been growing accustomed to Madara’s doting. His husband never stifled him, never tried to keep him from doing or being anything but what he was. He simply refused to allow him to stand alone, refused to allow him to bear the entirety of the burden. It was odd but not unwelcome. “Minimal danger. I know every weakness of the Senju compound and the clan better than even they can imagine. I will be fine, Madara.” He bent his head, resting his brow against his husband’s. “And when it is done I will return here, return  _ home _ , to you.”

“Fucking better.” Madara grumbled.

“We can indulge in that as well.” Tobirama smirked at the way the innuendo made his husband sputter.

“Smart ass.” Madara growled it out. “Bring that smart, pretty ass back in one piece. No one gets to put a mark on your ass but  _ me _ .”

Tobirama hummed, a quick memory of Madara’s mouth doing just that flicking through his mind. “Of course.” He gripped Madara’s hair in one hand, angled his head, and caught his husband’s mouth in a long, slow kiss filled with promise.

He broke the kiss at a flare of chakra in the courtyard and stepped back. “Izuna is showing off with my clone. Best you join them.” He picked up the hooded mask and pulled it on over his head so only his eyes could be seen. “If all goes as planned I will return in three hours.”

Madara nodded. “Half an hour past that and I’m coming after you.” He slipped out of their room to see what his little brother was getting up to with Tobirama’s clone.

“Fair enough,” Tobirama murmured it more to himself than anything else, waiting until he felt the blazing sun of Madara’s chakra slip away from around him and join the madness in the courtyard that was an Uchiha party to slip out of the window and into the night.

He ran the distance to the Senju compound, avoiding patrols and keeping to the shadows, with the ease of long practice. He had to sneer when he saw that not only had none of the holes in the Senju defenses been dealt with, the sloppy guard patrols had gotten  _ worse _ . Either Butsuma was getting careless with the schedules or the clan itself was finally getting fed up with him. It was a pleasant thought.

He took made his way along the roof to slip into the rafters of Butsuma’s study where he could feel his father’s chakra and an oddly repressed signature. His eyes popped wide when he saw just  _ who _ was in Butsuma’s study.

Uchiha Yashiro stood across from Butsuma, passing over a scroll. “The Blessing Journey will take place in a month. That is the route. You’re certain you can arrange a proper ‘accident’ for your son?”

Butsuma sneered, taking the scroll to read it. “That freak isn’t any blood of mine as far as I’m concerned. Cursed in the womb. Since you named him the Senju Ghost yourself, you agree.”

Yashiro’s expression twisted with disgust. “I loathe you and your entire clan. That I’m reduced to working with you to end this farce of a ceasefire  _ galls _ me to no end.”

Tobirama didn’t pay attention to Butsuma’s reply. There was no reason after hearing Yashiro’s purpose here. He wasn’t surprised to find that Yashiro was planning to kill him, they did have something of a history that only Yashiro and himself knew of, nor that he was plotting the end of the ceasefire. Colluding with Butsuma, even to the point of betraying a sacred Uchiha pilgrimage?  _ That _ was surprising. And it needed to be taken care of immediately.

His plan for Butsuma’s assassination very quickly took a different route to take out two birds with one stone. He considered his chakra levels and considered his options. Then he nodded and moved through a long string of hand signs as rapidly as possible before Butsuma or Yashiro noticed the rising chakra.

They felt it before he finished the jutsu and he had to jump from the rafters to avoid their attacks even as he continued to make the signs. He was stuck with nothing but avoidance until he finished the jutsu but that worked out in favor of his plan. It would make the study look as though an intense struggle took place.

He ducked and weaved and didn’t  _ quite _ manage to avoid all the shuriken Yashiro threw at him as he bent backward under the swipe of Butsuma’s sword. One shuriken caught his thigh and left behind a thin slice that would need stitches as soon as he had a moment. But that was the last act Yashiro managed before Tobirama completed the jutsu.

Butsuma and Yashiro both froze in place, the Senju Head with his sword extended and the Uchiha in the middle of throwing a kunai, unable to move of their own free will.

Tobirama turned, planting his feet, and met his father’s eyes, watching the rage contort his face.

“You!” It wanted to be a shout, a scream of rage, but whatever force held him in place also kept him from raising his voice. 

“Me. You did not think I would allow you to drive the Senju to extinction, and my new clan along with it, did you?” Tobirama drew his hands apart in a slow, controlled gesture, making Butsuma and Yashiro turn toward each other. “Yashiro I did not expect but it does allow me to remove a secondary threat to peace between the clans at the same time.”

“What are you doing? What is this you monster?” Yashiro snarled it, a little more control over his vocal chords than Butsuma. 

“A jutsu I developed. Water is my main element and the human body is sixty percent water with the body’s muscles being seventy-nine percent water. It took some time and experimentation but eventually I did create a jutsu that allows me to control the body of another.” Tobirama directed Butsuma and Yashiro both to bring their weapons to bear.

“You can not do thia!” Butsuma tried to stop himself as he was forced to move forward. “I am your father, the gods will-”

“As I believe you yourself said, Butsuma, I am no blood of yours. I will bear any punishment the gods choose to inflict if it means you will no longer put  _ my family _ in danger. And Yashiro,” Tobirama flicked a look at the Uchiha, pleased to see that the control jutsu kept the Sharingan from activating, “you should have  _ never _ betrayed your clan.”

“Demon,” Yashiro hissed, “you’re a  _ demon _ .”

“Then I will see you in hell, long after you are gone of course.” Tobirama made a final sharp gesture and the two men were made to lunge at each other, Butsuma’s sword tearing through Yashiro’s belly, spilling his viscera over the tatami mats, and Yashiro’s kunai finding Butsuma’s heart.

Both men collapsed as Tobirama dropped the jutsu and went to the scroll Yashiro had brought. Using some of his flagging chakra he set it up so that Butsuma’s cup of tea appeared to have spilled over it during the ‘struggle’ and carefully blurred out the details about the Blessing Journey he and Madara would be taking in the Spring, leaving only the proof that Yashiro had betrayed his clan legible.

He made certain none of his blood from the cut on his leg had dripped free to give away the staging of the scene then leaped up into the rafters again.

It was time to make his way home.

By the time he was slipping back inside the room he shared with Madara, Tobirama was near to collapsing from chakra exhaustion. Using the blood control jutsu on just  _ one _ person was draining. Using it on two simultaneously was dangerously exhausting. He hoped his clone hadn’t dispersed with how low his chakra was.

He made his way to the second tansu Madara had brought in for his use and dug through it for a suture kit.

He’d just found the sutures when Madara’s chakra wrapped around him once more and his knees went out at the warmth and comfort that it brought. He slid to the floor on a shudder and a moan, pressing his still masked brow against the tansu.

He knew Madara would be on his way to their room now, knew he should attempt to appear unaffected so as not to worry his husband, but the weeks of Madara’s doting, respectful support had sunk in enough that he couldn’t stir himself to hide his exhaustion.

He trusted Madara not to use his exhaustion to hurt him, as an argument against him in the future, or fuel to be angry with him. So he remained where he was even as he heard the door slide open.

“Tobirama!” Madara was careful not to shout, careful not to draw outside attention, but the sight of his husband slumped on the floor like that gripped his heart in a tight fist and made his stomach churn in fear.

He ran to Tobirama’s side, ignoring the clone that closed the door behind him, and knelt down. “Darling?” He cupped the back of Tobirama’s neck over the hooded mask.

“I am alright, mostly chakra exhaustion.” Tobirama leaned back into the touch for a moment before lifting a hand to pull the mask off, tossing it to the floor. 

“What happened?” Madara saw the suture kit and took it from Tobirama before looping his arm around his husband’s waist to lift and half carry him to their futon. “I know the run wouldn’t have wiped your chakra out.”

“Yashiro.” Tobirama allowed Madara to start stripping him of his stealth gear. “He was in Butsuma’s office.”

Madara froze, looking up at Tobirama with wide eyes. “ _ What? _ ”

Tobirama bent to press his brow to Madara’s, closing his eyes. “He brought Butsuma a scroll mapping out the route for the Blessing Journey so the Senju could attack and assassinate me, possibly you.”

Madara sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t, for one second, doubt Tobirama but knowing one of the clan’s elders would be party to an attack against one of the Blessed to say  _ nothing _ of against the clan’s heir was a knife in the heart. “Why would he...why?”

Tobirama’s hand found Madara’s hair and began stroking through it, offering comfort and soothing himself. “He has been watching since I was brought here. I already knew he was not...pleased with my presence.”

“But....I don’t understand.” Madara swallowed and wrapped his arms around Tobirama, anchoring himself and reassuring his husband.

“Do you know that the title of ‘The Senju Ghost’ came from Yashiro? He first coined it after his squad failed to kill Itama.” Tobirama pressed his cheek to Madara’s. “They failed, and he was the only survivor, because of me.”

“You? He came home wounded beyond our healers’ capabilities to put him back together enough to ever run missions again. You’d have been...ten.” Madara’s arms tightened around his husband.

“Nine. It was two months away from my birthday. I always shadowed Itama on his courier missions because back then he was...less skilled than most couriers should be. Itama is a healer at heart and did not take to the training to kill as well as most his age did.” Tobirama sighed and nuzzled Madara’s jaw. “So I followed to protect him. He only needed it that once. Yashiro’s squad crossed the border and caught him but unlike Itama  _ I _ excelled in my training and I already had enough of a grasp on my water nature that, if I put enough chakra into it, I could rip the blood out of someone and use it as a weapon against their allies.”

Madara couldn’t imagine how hard his husband had to have trained to be able to do that  _ at nine years old _ but he did know it had to have been brutal. He tucked Tobirama closer. “He saw you?”

“I was standing between him and Itama, staring him directly in the eyes. A foolish mistake on my behalf as he managed enough of a genjutsu to give him an opening to escape.” Tobirama had never made that mistake again, he still had the scar high on his ribs as a reminder.

The sound Madara made was akin to a wounded cow. “You could have been-”

“Shhh. I was not. I broke out of the genjutsu almost as soon as it was cast.” Tobirama turned his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of Madara’s mouth. “It is in the past.”

Madara breathed in slowly and held it until he could calm the fear of what could have happened years in the past. “So Yashiro saw you, saw your eyes.”

“He did and I can tell you that ‘Blessed’ was not something he considered me. ‘Demon’ is more accurate. Perhaps had I been born anything but a Senju he would have felt differently. As it is, he clearly was unhappy over our marriage and the ceasefire.”

Madara just growled. “And because of his prejudice and  _ stupidity _ he betrayed the clan? Gave away the route to one of our sacred shrines?”

“Yes. I am sorry.”

He shook his head. “What did you do with the scroll?”

“Damaged it to keep the sensitive information from being read but left it so it is proof that Yashiro betrayed the clan.” Tobirama explained how he’d killed Butsuma and Yashiro and set the scene and wasn’t surprised by the strangled sound Madara made before jerking back.

“Why didn’t you open with telling me you were injured?!” Madara stripped the trousers off his husband and snarled at the slice in Tobirama’s thigh. “Stubborn man.”

Tobirama just shook his head and angled to allow Madara to treat his injury with minimal difficulty. “It is a minor injury, no longer even bleeding. The information was more vital.”

Madara snorted and went about cleaning the wound. “You’re a disaster. My disaster. Your injuries are  _ always _ more vital to me than anything else.”

“I will endeavor to remember that in the future.” Tobirama glanced at his amused clone and lifted a brow.

The clone raised its hands, dispelled, and Tobirama winced at the rush of new information. His lips twitched a little once it was all absorbed. “The daimyo told us to retire?”

Madara snickered. “He was uncomfortable with me doting on ‘you’ so obviously. I think he believes I just haven’t gotten it out of my system yet. No one’s willing to tell him Uchiha never get it out of our systems.”

“It is a useful misapprehension. It likely will not be long before a messenger from the Senju compound arrives and an investigation ensues.” He hissed softly at the first bite of the needle as Madara began to suture his wound closed.

“Sorry, darling.” Madara almost crooned it, loathing having to hurt Tobirama to treat his injury. 

“No need.” Tobirama shook his head. “It is necessary. Normally I would have healed it but I do not have the reserves left.”

“You need food and rest.” Madara set his jaw, as if daring his husband to argue.

“Food  _ after _ rest. As it is, I am more likely to fall asleep in my meal than anything else.” He reached out and drew one long lock of black hair through his hand. 

“Deal. Especially with how you were when I came in.” Madara put in a final stitch, wiped the sutured injury closed, then applied a salve and began to wrap a bandage around Tobirama’s thigh.

“I could have gotten up, could have pushed the exhaustion away and continued on.” Tobirama began playing with his husband’s hair. “I almost did but then you wrapped me in your chakra and I saw no need to exhaust myself further. Not when I was home and safe with you.”

Madara’s heart felt like it was flying in his chest at that admission. Tobirama still hadn’t managed to say the  _ words _ but that was as loud a declaration of love on his husband’s behalf as if he’d screamed it from the rooftops. He secured the bandage and lifted his head to pull Tobirama in for a soft, sweet kiss.

“I love you too, darling.” He managed, sneakily, to tuck Tobirama under the kakebuton. “I’ll join you in a minute. As soon as I take care of your clothes and the medical supplies.”

“Hmm.” Tobirama settled on his side to watch Madara tucking everything away and disposing of any trash. He smiled lazily as his husband stripped then just rolled so that he was draped over Madara when his husband joined him on the futon. 

He tucked his face into Madara’s throat and breathed out the last of the tension even as he sensed a messenger arrive and the compound slowly lit with agitation. “You realize that, once the investigation is over, it will be Hashirama your father meets at the peace talks.”

Madara groaned. “Oh dear Goddess preserve me. If he tries to hug my father it might start a new feud.”

Tobirama chuckled. “He will not do that but he may blubber.”

A heavy sigh as the sounds of shouts reached Madara’s ears. “The strongest shinobi of our generation and he leaks like a sieve. We will deal with it and my father isn’t going to be offended. So long as no one throws a punch I’m sure we’ll walk away from the table with a genuine peace between our clans.”

Tobirama didn’t mention that he was certain Madara would be throwing a punch at Hashirama. His brother wouldn’t hug Tajima but he  _ would _ take the first opportunity to blubber  _ on _ Madara. But he’d allow his husband to sleep without that hanging over his head. If nothing else it would be entertaining to watch.

* * *

“Get off me you mutant strangle vine!” Madara tried to shove Hashirama off of him while his father looked on in quiet amusement and his brother alternated between cackling at his predicament and fluttering his lashes at Senju Touka. And his husband, his glorious, beautiful,  _ evil _ husband stood and smirked at the way Hashirama was crying  _ on _ Madara.

“But we’re at peace! Isn’t it wonderful? We can be friends and our dream is coming true!” Hashirama babbled between overdramatic sniffles and clinging to his friend like kudzu. 

“I’m your brother-in-law you idiot! Friendship is a foregone conclusion!” Madara fisted a hand, ready to clock Hashirama to get him off of him.

The words were a mistake. 

Hashirama gasped and his eyes grew big and shiny. “That’s right! You’re my  _ brother _ now! Madara!”

“Urk!” Madara’s arms were pinned to his sides as Hashirama redoubled his bear hug, crushing the air out of him.

Itama, standing beside Tobirama to give him a thorough once over, sighed. “You’d best deal with that if you want to have a functioning husband returning with you Tobira-nii.”

Tobirama hummed and walked over, grabbing Hashirama’s ear between his forefinger and thumb and pinching.  _ Hard _ . “Anija, unhand my husband.”

“But Tobi~ OW! Ow ow ow ow! Okay, okay!” Hashirama let Madara go as soon as Tobirama twisted. “Have you gotten meaner, Otouto? I think you’ve gotten meaner.” He escaped the ear pinch and rubbed at the sore flesh gingerly. 

Madara snorted and tucked himself up behind Tobirama, wrapping his arms loosely around his husband’s waist. “Hardly.”

“Indeed. I am simply exercising my freedom, Anija.” Tobirama leaned back into Madara’s hold, a lightness to his expression.

Hashirama’s eyes sharpened, taking in his brother’s ease and the truth of his words. His little brother, who had always kept himself contained and controlled, hid away his thoughts and opinions, and his very self for the safety of Hashirama, Itama, and Touka,  _ was _ free. Free of the restrictions Butsuma’s madness had placed on him, free of the cage he’d built himself for the sake of others.

He smiled, the ridiculous dramatics dropping away to leave his most sincere self. “So I see. I’m happy for you, Tobirama.” He looked at Madara then bowed, “Thank you, my friend.”

Madara snorted. “Believe me, Hashirama,  _ I’m _ the one who should be thanking you. But  _ don’t _ hug me again!”

Hashirama stood, a booming laugh bursting out of him. “Very well! Tajima-sama,” he turned, merriment in his eyes, “would you and your delegation like to join us for some sake? We have some of Ta no Kuni’s finest.”

Tajima eyed his sons, particularly the way his youngest was drawing the glare of Senju Itama while trying his best to get Senju Touka’s attention, then met the clear, bright eyes of the new Head of the Senju Clan. He wouldn’t call Senju Hashirama guileless by any measure but he was powerful enough, as he clearly displayed by only bringing his baby brother and cousin rather than a full delegation, that he didn’t need to bother with subterfuge in this situation. 

He inclined his head. “Yes, we would, Hashirama-sama.”

“Wonderful! Tobi!” Hashirama snagged Itama around the neck with an affectionate arm. “We’ll go to the Lotus Stand. It’s near neutral with the treaty signed now. Will you be catching up?”

Tobirama, ears still a bit pink from Madara’s earlier words, nodded. “In a few minutes, Anjia.”

“Excellent!” Hashirama began dragging Itama off with him, leading the way with Tajima. “So Izuna-san, I haven’t seen you on the battlefield very often, I expect you stayed at the Uchiha compound to defend against sneak attacks, what is your specialty?”

Madara snickered at the way his little brother eyed Hashirama like a particularly dangerous viper as he answered cautiously. He waited with Tobirama until the rest were out of his sensing range. “So why did the log head give us privacy?”

Tobirama turned in Madara’s arms and cupped his face in his hands. “Thanking Hashirama?”

“Ahhhh, well,” Madara blushed, “I may have...asked him for some advice on your favorite things. You never ask for anything! Hell you’d have gone on sleeping in bedding that gives you a  _ rash _ if I hadn’t spoken to the laundress about it.” He glared at his husband. 

Tobirama searched those irritable eyes for a long moment. “You are an  _ impossible _ gift I never once thought to dream of.”

“What are you-” Madara cut himself off when Tobirama pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. He frowned in confusion at the smile slowly curling the corners of his husband’s lips.

“Uchiha Madara, my husband, I love you.” It fell from his lips more easily than he’d have ever predicted, as thought it had only been waiting for the right time to spill out.

Madara’s breath caught and his arms tightened around Tobirama’s waist. “Darling!”

“I love you.” Tobirama repeated himself, feeling light enough to fly. “Now and always.”

Madara pulled his husband in for a kiss, wild and joyful with all the love dancing in his own heart. 

Tobirama laughed into the kiss. made certain they were alone and would be so for some time, then pulled Madara down to the ground with him. They could catch up to their families later, right now that had their own celebration to partake in.

**Author's Note:**

> [Image of Tobirama's kendogi](https://i.etsystatic.com/11810696/r/il/354563/1251182369/il_fullxfull.1251182369_8um9.jpg) from the sparring match.


End file.
